Inter Alia
by Mark Childs
Summary: Four people from the lower decks of the Enterprise interact with characters from TNG, TOS and DS9 causing havoc and generally getting in the way. Inter Alia starts after the end of the Next Generation TV series.
1. The Legaran Representative

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1 The Legaran Representative

Commander Riker watched the activity being carried out by the life support team. Each person there knew what to do, of course, but it put his mind at rest to see them at work. This would be only the second trip by a Legaran off-world, and he knew how delicate these diplomatic missions could be. He didn't want a hundred years of painstaking diplomacy thrown away. Not on his watch. It had already taken too long to prepare the quarters. The _Enterprise_ had received the signal from the Legaran homing beacon at stardate 48010 and had reached Legara IV in three days. The Legaran Representative had been beamed aboard immediately but had had to remain immersed in his vat for several hours while the technicians completed the room. Up in a cargo bay on deck five, the Legaran Representative was becoming impatient.

The Life Support team finished checking the adapted room. A large sunken area had been built in the centre of it, taking up not only two large rooms on deck nine, but also the two directly below. The engineers climbed out of the empty pool and waved all clear. Six replicator units were positioned round the edge of the pool. Riker watched as assistant quartermaster Cochrane stepped up to the first and keyed in a sequence on its control panel. Immediately it began replicating thick glutinous mud that oozed out of the replicator unit and began filling up the pool. Cochrane checked his tricorder, seemed satisfied with the result and went up to the next replicator. Riker watched him uneasily. A childhood spent living on a tiny run-down trader ship had made Cochrane pale and thin for a human and rather withdrawn. Cochrane had trained as an xeno-ethnologist at Starfleet Academy but hadn't made the grade. He'd been kicked out and had signed on with Starfleet as an enlisted person. If anyone else had assigned Cochrane the task of supervising the Legaran representative's quarters Riker would not have felt so uneasy, just because someone wasn't officer material didn't make him incompetent, but Riker had selected him, and so if Cochrane messed up then ultimately it would be Riker's error.

The pool was half-full. It stank of ammonia and sulphur. Riker's admiration for Ambassador Sarek grew immeasurably. How had he put up with that smell for 93 years?

Crewman Cochrane waited nervously in Riker's office. The Legaran Representative had not been happy with its quarters. The balance of sulphates and trace elements had been way off. The Legaran had made its displeasure known to the Counsellor and had been returned to its vat. Cochrane had been dismissed from his assignment and in his place the senior quartermaster had been given the task. When the Representative had been beamed aboard a large amount of the surrounding mud had been beamed aboard with it. The Representative and surrounding mud had been transported directly into a vat in the cargo bay. The senior quartermaster had used this mud as a guide for programming the replicators, and the Representative had found this more to its liking. Riker sat at his desk reading the details of the incident from his padd. Keeping Cochrane waiting. Cochrane toyed with his hair where it was drawn back in a ponytail, then forced himself to stop. Looking unconfident would make him look even more incompetent. It was like the Academy all over again, making some headway, then fouling it up at the important moment.

Riker looked up. "It's not good, is it Cochrane?"

"No sir."

"Didn't you think to check?"

"I did check. On the computer - the specs for the chemical balance that were used for the Legaran Representative four years ago. I was sure I'd got it right. At least I thought so."

"You thought so. That's not quite good enough, is it?"

"No sir."

"We have very high standards on the _Enterprise_. We all have to work hard to meet them. I expect you to do the same."

"Commander".

There was a pause. Cochrane wasn't sure what came next.

"Dismissed." Riker went back to his padd, keying something into it. Cochrane got the message. He wasn't worth bothering with any more.

"Jonah?" Ensign T'Pris stood at the doorway to the storeroom. "Jonah, are you there?"

T'Pris entered. The storeroom was one of the most fascinating places on the _Enterprise. _It contained artefacts and artwork, trivia and trinkets, from scores of planets, solely so that the crew of the starship could vary the way their quarters were decorated, swapping a tapestry for a portrait, an _objet d'art_ for an item of jewellery. Those that wanted to could gradually acquire possessions, usually for the purpose of gift-giving. As assistant quartermaster, Jonah Cochrane was responsible for recommending pieces to people, distributing the items, and even acquiring them if the Enterprise happened to stopover at a planet where acquiring souvenirs would not infringe the Prime Directive. Jonah's trader background helped with the role, as did his xeno-ethnology training. 

The storeroom was how the tall, unconventional human and the petite, dark-skinned Vulcan had met. T'Pris had found settling in to life on the Enterprise difficult after life at the Academy. Sharia, the woman with whom she shared her quarters, had been loud, boisterous, gregarious and very popular with many of the male crewmembers. T'Pris had found herself retreating more and more into her own private space and meditating more and more frequently. She began to take on the state of a _vrekasht_ in her own quarters and thoughts of her home near the Voroth Sea began to preoccupy her. She had come to the store room looking for something to make her small space her own and had been surprised to find several Vulcan ritual cloaks amongst the items there. She'd wanted one to use as a wall hanging or bed cover, and Jonah had waited very patiently as she'd pored over each of the cloaks in turn. None had really been what she was looking for, but as she'd looked at them they'd talked about Vulcan, he seemed to know the planet, and she'd told him of how emotional she found the various _tviokh_ with whom she found herself sharing her quarters. A few weeks later, when Sharia seemed to settle on one particular crewman and decided she wanted him to move in with her and T'Pris to move out, Jonah had informed her that he had a two-person quarters to himself and offered to share. She had accepted and on moving into her room had found a beautiful Vulcan ritual cloak lying on her bed. It was even one from her _skan_. 

She'd been so surprised that she'd asked Jonah how he'd known what to replicate. He had looked hurt – at least as far as she understood the emotion, that seemed to be what his expression signified - and replied in a wounded voice that he would never replicate a gift. He had then explained his theory of replication. According to Jonah, carving or weaving or painting an object by hand imbued that object with a particular essence or being, he used the word _pagh_, that couldn't be recreated or reproduced by replication. She'd argued that that didn't make sense. You could beam a vase from one place to another, and it was identical at the other end. He'd accepted that, but said that the _pagh_ travelled with the object as it was transported. But, T'Pris had argued, supposed you downloaded the transporter trace describing the vase into a replicator, wouldn't you then be able to create an exact replica? Jonah had answered that, yes, you would, but you couldn't recreate the object's _pagh_, it would look the same but it would somehow _feel_ different. T'Pris had found the argument illogical and had revised her opinion that here was a human that she could relate to as effectively as she might have done another Vulcan. 

Jonah had persisted with his argument. 

"OK, what about people? We could do the same with people, after all when they're being transported they're just data and a stream of matter. We could just download the data to a replicator and use any matter and replicate a person, any number of times. But we don't, we even make sure that the matter stream carries the original matter broken down into energy, then reformed into the original person. Why? All matter is essentially the same anyway, we could just transfer the data and take the matter from anywhere. We mourn someone's death, but if they've been transported recently the transporter trace is stored somewhere, we could just replicate them and have them back. That's logical isn't it?" T'Pris had acknowledged as much.

"But we don't. We don't because it's a taboo, a taboo that we're not even consciously aware of. It wouldn't occur to us to do it. Why not? Because somehow we know that when someone has died then their being, their essence, or _pagh_ or soul or _katra_ or whatever you want to call it, has gone. And all you'd have if you replicated someone is a soulless copy. The soul travels with the matter stream, and the data stream, and is downloaded into the pattern buffers and then transferred into the body when it's recreated the first time by the transporter. Like in – what's the word - _na'Tha'thhya_? But you can't do it again, because even though there'd be a second body, there wouldn't be a second soul." T'Pris had decided that the argument was so illogical that to argue against it would itself be illogical, so she had excused herself and had retreated to her room, and drew the cloak around her like a warm and affectionate _sehlat_. 

Her initial doubts about Jonah's being overtly _qomi_ had been ill-founded, he had been a quiet, reserved and very private person. Sharing quarters with him had been very peaceful and his flights of illogic were few and far between. However, one day she had visited him at the store and he had presented her with five vases – all identical. "Pick one" he'd said. She did so, because it would have been illogical to spend more energy arguing against doing so than to simply do as he wished. He turned the vase she'd chosen upside-down. Underneath the vase was a label that said "original". Under the others were the label "replicated". Jonah seemed to believe that this meant he'd won the argument.

T'Pris found Jonah sitting at a viewer staring intently at the image on the screen. He was displaying the human emotion she'd come to recognise as "sulking". After listening to a few muttered comments about a "damn, overbearing … " (she hadn't caught the final word – but it had sounded like "half-soul") she'd been able to coax the whole story from him. The assignment to set up the quarters for the Legaran Representative. The Representative's displeasure at the ingredients for the environment. The dressing down from Commander Riker. The senior quartermaster being given the assignment. 

The Legaran Representative was particularly interesting to T'Pris. Her assignment during her cadet training had been on board the _Merrimack_ and she had met the Vulcan delegation on their return from Legara IV. She had been very much in awe of Sarek, an emotion that had been highly resistant to her _t'san_ _s'at_ discipline, and had tried to learn as much as possible about his work. She had not been successful. The Vulcan delegation had been highly secretive about Legara IV and T'Pris had been left with an intense curiosity about both Legara IV and Legarans. T'Pris's combadge signalled to her. She tapped it. It was a call from the ship's computer to remind her that she was on duty in five minutes. "I've got to go, Jonah. I'll talk to you later."

Lieutenant-Commander Data observed – not for the first time – the irony in the fact that the act of instructing was itself instructional. He was supervising a group of ensigns new to the Life Sciences Division, suggesting lines of research to them, helping with their enquiries, adjusting interface designs to aid the ensigns' study. As was common when the _Enterprise_ was in the vicinity of a planet, Life Sciences was particularly busy, with every scientist from cadets to officers making the most of their opportunity to study Legara IV.

One ensign – T'Pris – had identified a very interesting line of enquiry. She had noted that the Legaran Representative preferred differently constituted mud than the previous time the Representative had been on the Enterprise. She had investigated what was known about the anatomy of the Legarans, and it appeared that the possibility that Legarans would change their preference was unlikely. She had asked Data to suggest the next step in her study.

Data had been experimenting with the idea of lateral thinking – to try a completely different line of research and see where it led. T'Pris had seemed unwilling to attempt such an illogical leap, but had deferred to his seniority. Data had suggested that she examined the geography of the planet, and determine if any particular areas on the surface corresponded with the two sets of ingredients. T'Pris now led Data to her viewer.

"Look, sir," she pointed to the screen. "The planet's surface is fragmented into many different types of mud. And if we compare with the same areas four years ago," she touched the control panel, "they show only a 4.3% drift."

"What can you deduce from this, knowing the Representative's displeasure at entering mud of a different constitution?" Data observed the young Vulcan withdraw into deep thought.

"The Legarans would only have contact with a small percentage of the population – those that lived in similarly constituted mud."

"Yes." Data had seen where the line of reasoning would ultimately lead, but chose to draw the arguments from her. "But we beamed the Legaran Representative aboard from the same location as the previous one. The location is determined by the homing beacon left behind by Ambassador Sarek's delegation."

"But it's not possible – since the Representative we have lives in a different kind of mud than the previous one."

"Then ..?"

"Then … someone must have interfered with the act of beaming aboard the Representative. We beamed aboard the wrong Legaran from a different region. But …"

"But what, ensign?"

"But that's hardly possible."

"When you have eliminated the impossible, Ensign T'Pris, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. I think we have an impostor aboard."

Counsellor Troi listened to Data's briefing. As usual with Data she found herself concentrating more on his words to compensate for her receiving no empathic information from him. The transporter logs had shown that the Representative had been beamed from the specified location, but Data's evidence proved that the Legaran aboard was not the designated Representative. Somehow the log was in error. Ambassador Sarek had made it clear that only a Legaran from the area of the homing beacon should be brought off-world – in fact he had made it a General Order. It appeared that the _Enterprise_ had inadvertently disobeyed the order. It also made Jonah Cochrane's mistake seem less of a transgression. Deanna smiled to herself. She sensed some of the activity that underlay this revelation. The networks that ran through a crew were undefined, but in some ways they were as effective as the formal hierarchy. As Counsellor she was privileged with far more information about the people on board the _Enterprise_ than anyone else, but even she could not trace all the connections. Someone had sprung to Jonah's defence and Data's deposition here was the result.

"Counsellor" the Captain turned his attention to her. "Any luck yet communicating with the Legaran?"

"No sir."

"So we don't yet know why the Legaran is aboard."

"No sir." Deanna replied. "We picked up a signal from the homing beacon and beamed the Legaran near the beacon aboard - in accord with the agreement with Legara. At least we thought we had. We had no formal communication at any time. The Legaran has not communicated in any observable way. I can detect emotions from him, and sense that the Legaran can pick up vague thoughts, but specific information … no … I don't know how we can communicate. If we had information from the Vulcan delegation, it might give us somewhere to start."

"Perhaps Sarek used the Vulcan mind-meld," Will suggested.

Deanna shrugged. "Perhaps".

"And this still doesn't explain how the transporter was affected," the Captain added. Deanna sensed his irritation.

"The Legarans may have some psychokinetic ability," Deanna replied. "I observed some effects while in the cargo bay keeping the Legaran company, doors opening and closing, lights flickering. I felt something from the Legaran which I couldn't place at the time." Deanna hesitated. "I don't know. It's a possibility." She felt the weakness of the statement and automatically looked to Will for reassurance. He smiled in response. Deanna felt Worf bridle at the exchange. Deanna recognised her own resentment at Worf's jealousy, started to suppress her feelings for their unfairness, then forced herself to acknowledge her own feelings. She had to accept it - she was beginning to find the whole situation far too draining.

The Captain was about to dismiss them. "I want answers. Counsellor, work with Commander Data, try and find some way to communicate with the Legaran, find out why it's here, what it wants." He paused. "Dismissed."

Riker caught up with Deanna as she entered the turbolift. 

"I've just spoken with the Captain. He's tried to get information from the Vulcan Council about the diplomatic mission to Legara, but so far they're not giving out anything. He's going to have to go through official Federation channels, I think. It could take time."

Deanna nodded abstractedly. There seemed to be something on her mind, thought Riker. Problems with Worf? He had to admit to himself he had been feeling jealous. But then, she'd know that, too. Maybe that was the problem – she felt he and Worf between them were making too many demands on her. But he couldn't hide his feelings from her – it was impossible. One of the difficulties of being close to an empath. He'd known Deanna for ten years and still felt exposed emotionally at times.

"Is everything OK?" 

Deanna hesitated – then was about to speak when Riker's combadge signalled.

"Riker here!" he couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"Jonah Cochrane. Sorry to disturb you Commander, but I was meant to relieve Chief Allsop an hour ago and I can't find him."

Riker tapped his combadge.

"Computer, locate the Senior Quartermaster."

"Chief Petty Officer Allsop is not on the _Enterprise_."

"What was the last known location of CPO Allsop?"

"The last recorded location of Chief Petty Officer Allsop was the room assigned to the Legaran Representative."

The turbolift had stopped at deck nine. The doors opened and a smell of sulphur and ammonia assailed them. Thick glutinous mud oozed down the corridor.

"Security. Deck nine." Riker ordered, then he and Deanna entered the corridor.

The mud deepened the further along the corridor they walked. After a few meters they were wading knee-deep through it, struggling to keep their balance as the glutinous mass clung to their legs as they moved them. As they neared the Legaran's quarters they saw Cochrane standing still looking at something in the mud. It was the Legaran. It lay there motionless, a black mass of gelatinous substance, glistening like a slug, but flattened, like a manta ray. Slowly it raised one side of its body and it then flopped back into the mud, spattering some of it against the walls of the corridor.

"I came to try and find Chief Allsop and came across the Legaran lying here," Cochrane informed them.

"Deanna, are you getting anything?" Riker asked the Counsellor.

Deanna concentrated feeling a vague emotion of … 

"It's waiting for something. It expects something from us. It's very passive."

The turbolift doors opened behind them. Worf and three security guards entered deck nine and waded through the mud to meet them. The mud was gradually deepening, the replicators in the Legaran Representative's quarters had obviously been turned on again. At this rate the entire deck would soon be flooded.

Worf had his phaser pointed at the Legaran. The three security guards did the same. 

"Check the replicators," Worf ordered one of them. "Take the quartermaster with you."

Cochrane and the security guard waded slowly through the mud along the corridor. It was as deep as their thighs now and each step was extremely difficult. Worf and the other two guards maintained their watch on the Legaran. Suddenly something moved towards the two men, skimming through the mud just below the surface. It enveloped the security guard around his waist and the guard and the shape disappeared into the mud. The guard broke the surface once, about ten metres away from Cochrane, screamed and then disappeared below the surface. Cochrane took a step towards the place where the guard had disappeared, then thought better of it. Behind him Worf and the others were wading through the mud to join him.

"What happened?" Worf demanded.

"There's another one. It grabbed him and then pulled him under the surface." 

"Computer, location of Ensign Peters?" Worf said to his combadge.

"Ensign Peters is not on board the _Enterprise_," the computer replied.

"OK, let's get everyone off this deck," Riker ordered, "and seal it off. We need to work out what we're up against."

Jonah Cochrane and T'Pris were playing _kal-toh_. An intruder alert was in operation, which meant that all non-essential and off-duty personnel had to remain in their quarters. Jonah held his _t'an_ rod, trying to decide where to place it.

"I heard about Chief Petty Officer Allsop. My condolences. I know the two of you were close."

Jonah looked up at T'Pris. She rarely offered to talk about anything concerning feelings.

"Thanks", he placed the rod amongst the others. A section of the puzzle disappeared, due to the disharmony the move had created. "Sorry my mind's not on this. You're right, we were close. Eddie looked out for me. I think he looked on me as a protégé, but not one who would out-do him. He could relax around me. Not like some of the over-achievers he'd been assigned before. He did odd little things to show that he cared, like getting me a two-person's quarters to myself, although he said it was just the way the roster had worked out. He was close to retiring. It's not the best way to go, is it? Eaten alive by a giant slug."

T'Pris switched off the _kal-toh_ puzzle. She decided Jonah needed something different to occupy him.

"I've got something from Legara IV. A pot my uncle was given. He was part of the Ambassador's delegation and gave it to me as a gift."

T'Pris went to her room and returned with a clay pot – almost spherical with an opening at the top.

"_Kal Rekk_ took place while we were transporting the delegation between Legara IV and Vulcan. My uncle gave it to me as a focus for my meditation". She handed it to Jonah.

He held it carefully, rotating it, then gently rubbed the surface.

"Well, it's an original - not replicated."

"The delegation had dozens of them. I think my uncle may have given it to me just to get rid of it."

"How do the Legaran's make them?"

"They remove the moisture from part of their bodies then hold some of the mud against them. The contact gradually dries out the mud."

"Really? Must take days." Jonah examined the pot more closely. His xeno-ethnology training had focussed on the skill of extrapolating a species' culture and behaviour from one of its artefacts. Jonah had been able to do this with such unerring accuracy that his teacher believed he may have had some form of psychic ability, such as psychometry. Jonah looked at the residue on his fingers.

"It's very delicate. Not like most food storage containers. Usually they get so much use they have to be very durable. This is more like ceremonial usage. But the opening suggests that it was used for storing something like food."

He rotated it again. "But the shape is not that practical either. It's more like a burial pot, most cultures associate a sphere with life, death, rebirth."

He paused thinking. "Unless it's both. T'Pris, do you have a tricorder? A life sciences one?"

T'Pris brought one from her room.

"Run it inside the pot. Is there any residue?"

T'Pris set the tricorder for a surface scan and ran it inside the pot. She looked at the read-out.

"Legaran. The pot has had Legaran tissue inside it." T'Pris informed Jonah.

"I thought so. I think the Legarans eat each other, they store part of their bodies in these." He handed the pot back to T'Pris. "But why?"

T'Pris thought for a while.

"Have you ever herd of planarian worms?" she asked Jonah. "A Terran belief in twentieth century life sciences, that memories could be transferred from one worm to another by them eating one another."

"Do you think that's how they communicate?" Jonah wondered.

"Possibly. That could be how the Legaran learnt about replicators. Remember, that the Legaran gained control over them just after Chief Allsop was … consumed."

"And now it's eaten that Peters guy," Jonah realised. "So it knows our security systems. We'd better tell someone."

A slurping sound came from the replicator unit behind them. They turned to look and saw thick mud start to ooze from the unit. A smell of sulphur and ammonia filled the room.

Captain Picard sat in his ready room. Mud covered the floor and continued to issue from the replicator. Geordi hadn't yet found a way to shut them down. It seemed that Deanna was correct, the Legaran did have some sort of psychokinetic ability. Everything Geordi did was over-ridden by an external force. The only solution would be to destroy the replicators with phasers, but that would be a last resort. There had to be a better solution. He'd soon have to evacuate the room and escape to the bridge. At least there were no replicators there. If he sealed the door behind him it would contain the mud. If only there were some way to communicate with the Legaran, find out what it wanted. He decided to contact the Federation Council again and see if they would release the details of Ambassador Sarek's mission.

The Captain's combadge signalled. It was Data.

"Sir, I've just been contacted by one of the ensigns from life science. She believes that she may have a theory about how the Legarans communicate. I'll put you though to her."

"Go ahead." Picard paused. "This is the captain … ensign …?"

"T'Pris, sir. I've been reviewing information on the Legarans and a logical extrapolation of the Representative's behaviour is .." she paused. Picard heard someone in the background prompt her. "There is little evidence but - the Legarans may communicate by consuming each other. It seems that they reproduce by binary fission, when one Legaran wishes to communicate with another then both reproduce, and each consumes one of the other Legarans."

"What evidence is there for this, ensign?" Picard waited. The ensign was hesitating, concealing something?

"When the quartermaster was consumed the Legaran obtained the information about the replicators. There's a possibility that it now knows about the security systems, from Peters, sir."

"And have you any theories about how Ambassador Sarek may have communicated with them?"

"No, sir, I don't."

"Thank you ensign." Picard shut off his combadge. Eating each other? Was it possible? And could there be a security breach? He tapped his combadge.

"Lieutenant Worf. "

"Sir."

"Increase patrols on decks eight and ten. The Legaran may be able to penetrate our security protocols."

"Yes, sir."

"If you do encounter the Representative use the minimum force required to defend yourself, I don't want the Representative harmed. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

If the ensign's theory is correct, Picard thought, then although the Legaran was eating his crew, it was only doing so in order to be friendly. Killing the Representative was therefore something he wanted to avoid. That left the problem of how to communicate with it. He turned to his viewer, the mud around his feet, now ankle deep, made a slurping noise as he moved.

"Communications, contact Vulcan for me. I'd like to speak to Perrin, the widow of Ambassador Sarek. Tell her it's very urgent."

Time to evacuate the ready room. Picard entered the bridge, sealing the door behind him. He headed towards the turbolift and looked down at his feet, seeing that he had tracked mud across the floor of the bridge. There seemed to be no way of avoiding it. He spoke into his combadge.

"Counsellor, are you still on deck nine?"

"Yes, sir. The second Legaran is still here. Still no change."

"I'll meet you down there." 

"Sir," Riker rose from his seat. "Is that wise? You could be placing yourself at risk?"

"Number One, if we don't communicate with the Legaran, this whole ship is at risk."

Picard entered the turbolift. At deck nine the doors opened and a wave of mud entered the lift, hitting him at waist height and knocking him over. Picard picked himself up, looking down at his mud-covered hands and arms. This was getting out of hand.

Picard entered the corridor, making his way slowly through the mud, using his arms to claw his way through. As he approached the circle of security guards surrounding the Legaran, he saw them suddenly react, lifting up their phasers. The Legaran was swimming swiftly through the mud in a undulating movement, heading directly towards Picard. Phaser fire cut through it, but it continued to swim, until directly in front of Picard it flipped over and lay there passively.

The Counsellor and the security guards waded towards him.

"Counsellor?" Picard enquired.

"I got a feeling of intense joy and recognition. It knows you Captain. And now, the same passivity. It wants us to do something."

"I think I know what." Picard held out his hand for a phaser. One of the guards handed his over to the Captain. Picard leant over the Legaran, adjusted the phaser to a tight beam setting and carefully cut away part of the Legaran's body. He held up the glistening flesh, it the slime congealing with the mud already on his hands.

His combadge signalled.

"Captain!" it was Worf. "Captain, we spotted the Legaran on deck eight, but it suddenly swam away from us and entered a jefferies tube. It may be headed towards your position."

Of course, Picard thought. The eater and the eaten. This Legaran wanted _him_ to eat _it_. Had, in fact, appeared to single him out and head towards him in particular. But the other one …The other one would now be singling Picard out to reciprocate.

"Quickly, everyone, in the turbolift, now!"

Moving quickly through the mud was not possible. Troi, Picard and the guards waded laboriously towards the turbolift, each step requiring them to push aside kilos of mud. Picard took a look behind, the mud was rippling in an undulating movement, the ripples moving at a high speed towards them.

They were all in the turbolift. "Close" Picard yelled, and the doors slid shut. He heard a dull thud as something hit the doors and then hit them again.

Deanna Troi was concerned about the Captain. She rarely saw him with this level of agitation. She knew what it was – the one thing that angered him more than anything else was losing control of his ship. Having something wrest the Enterprise from him like this not only undermined his authority, it took away part of his sense of self, that command he felt over his environment. And for that environment to be corrupted with this foul-smelling mud, that was adding insult to injury. At least Beverly had been able to keep this part of the sickbay clear of mud, though her office was knee-deep in the stuff. Only a few muddy footprints spoilt the cleanliness of the room. 

She looked up at Beverly, who was also observing the Captain with concern. The doctor then returned to monitoring his life-signs. Picard sat contemplating the orange-streaked, grey, slimy flesh on the table in front of him. 

"Jean-Luc" she started, but stopped as he suddenly lifted the flesh up and took a large bite from it, swallowing it without chewing. He gagged repeatedly then shuddered at the taste. Beverly looked again at her tricorder. Adrenaline levels higher, but so far not display of toxic reaction. Then a boost in peptide levels, compatible with memory traces being laid down, very high. The Captain collapsed, his head resting against the table. Then, very slowly, he sat up.

"Incredible," he said. "A lifetime of memories from the Legaran."

"Of what?" Beverly prompted.

"Not much, swimming around in mud mostly. But then, curiosity. Intense curiosity. Also, vague mental images of activity somewhere, of other Legarans making contact with small ugly hard pale creatures. Alien creatures that are emotionless but intelligent. And then this Legaran's feeling of intense jealousy."

"Could the "small ugly pale hard emotionless creatures" be the Vulcan delegation?" Beverly asked. "Could this Legaran have somehow picked up on the other Legarans' contact with the Vulcan delegation?"

"Probably."

"And have felt left out?"

"Perhaps. But there's something else. This Legaran obtained an impression of a link, between the hard, small creatures in the mud to, somewhere else, somewhere not mud. It remembers the revelation, that there is somewhere not-mud. Then the creatures go away."

"The Legarans seem to be able to sense vague impressions, but not more." Deanna observed. "To learn more they need to consume." 

"And when this Legaran sensed us returning it manipulated the transporter lock so that instead of the Legarans that had been contacted by Sarek we beamed up this Legaran instead." Picard drew upon the memories within him, the memories transferred from the Legaran flesh he had eaten. "No, not the transporter lock, it was the homing beacon – the Legaran did something to that. You were right Deanna, they do seem to have some psychokinetic abilities." Picard remembered the way in which the Legaran had homed in on him. "But why would they want to contact me in particular?"

"Perhaps they sense the link you had with Sarek." Deanna answered. "You were mind-melded for a while. Part of Sarek still lives in your mind."

Picard regarded the piece of Legaran flesh that lay on the table. 

"So all this, posing as the Legaran Representative, flooding the _Enterprise_ with mud, eating two members of my crew, all of it is so that the Legaran can travel around the _Enterprise_ in the hope of finding me so that it can eat me and thereby commune with the part of Sarek inside me." Again he remembered the consuming need to know from the Legaran's memories. "They really are a remarkable people."

Picard's combadge signalled. "Picard here."

"Captain, I have Perrin for you."

"Put her through to the viewer in the sickbay."

The face of Ambassador Sarek's widow appeared on the viewer.

"Captain Picard."

"Ma'am."

"How can I help?"

"I need some information on the method the Ambassador used to communicate with the Legarans."

"My husband established that mind-melds would be the form of contact."

"But you must know how Legarans initiate contact – by consuming their visitors. How did he make first contact without being eaten?"

"I'm afraid I can't divulge that. He was most specific that it was not to be revealed."

"It is most urgent, I'm afraid I must insist." Picard persisted. "A Legaran is on my ship and we have no means to reach it."

"Captain, surely you are aware of General Order thirty-five, my husband was most specific that only those Legarans with whom he had negotiated were to be contacted in the future. He established certain protocols with them, but not with others on the planet. General Order thirty-five was established to avoid precisely the situation you are in now."

"We did not disobey the General Order intentionally. The wrong Legaran was beamed aboard by mistake," Picard explained. "Please tell me, how did Sarek convince the Legarans not to eat the delegation?"

Perrin hesitated, then said: "If I tell you, it must remain a private matter between ourselves." Lady Perrin regarded the three people on her viewscreen. "I don't want my husband's name to be subject to any … unfortunate talk."

"Of course, Ma'am," the Captain answered. Beside him, Deanna and Dr. Crusher nodded their assent.

"My husband … _was_ eaten by Legarans, several times."

"What … how …?"

"He allowed himself to be replicated, and the copies were eaten."

"But the ethical dilemma!" Picard exclaimed.

"My husband was well aware of the moral ambiguities, but felt that it was justified considering the opportunity to come to an agreement with the Legarans." Now that she had revealed the truth Perrin was determined to justify her late husband's actions. "When he discovered how the Legarans communicate he was sedated and then a transporter was used to replicate himself. The original was woken, but the copy wasn't. The copy was then fed to the Legaran negotiator, without ever gaining consciousness. It was the logical decision."

Picard was astounded. Surely that was murder.

"My husband decided that logically no death had occurred since he was still alive, and the copy would not be aware of his own death, because he had never had a separate existence, since he was never conscious. Once the procedure was established my husband went through it several times, until he had convinced the Legarans that eating people is not socially acceptable within our culture, and that the mind-meld would be a preferable means of communication. This was, in fact, the lengthiest part of the negotiation, and the Legarans never really accepted that we actually preferred them to behave in a way that they thought extremely impolite. For Legarans etiquette is extremely important."

****

"_T'Sai_Perrin, may I ask?" Picard felt uncomfortable asking this, but he felt the need to be reassured. "What was your opinion of this procedure?"

Perrin hesitated again. "I must say I was never convinced of its necessity. In addition," she paused, "I don't believe the procedure was carried out with sufficient rigour. I have the distinct impression that on more than one occasion it was actually the copy that was revived and the original that was fed to the Legaran. Not that logically it should make any difference, but I sometimes wonder if perhaps my husband's apparent display of Bendii Syndrome was instead the symptoms of him being a copy of a copy of my husband." Perrin was quiet for a few moments, appearing lost in thought. "As I said Captain, I'd appreciate it if this was kept between ourselves."

"Of course, Ma'am. Thank you for your assistance."

He broke the link between them, then turned to the two women standing beside him.

"Is that what I have to do, make a copy of myself and feed it to the Legaran? Is it either that or put up with my ship being flooded with mud and my crew eaten?"

Dr. Crusher and Counsellor Troi thought for a few moments.

"We could just replicate your brain cells," suggested Troi, "as in genetronic replication."

"Perhaps," replied Dr. Crusher "but would we be able to keep its memory engrams intact as just a disembodied brain?"

Picard was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the idea. Then he felt his spirits lift, he couldn't carry out the procedure. "It won't work, there are no replicators that are still functioning, all of them are replicating the Legaran's mud."

"Are you sure?" asked Deanna. "I'll ask the computer." The tapped her combadge. "Computer, list functioning replicators."

"All replicators linked to the central computer are currently malfunctioning. Stand-alone replicators are still functioning correctly."

"Computer – give location of largest stand-alone replicator."

"Quartermaster's stores. Deck thirty." Picard felt his heart sink. He couldn't think of a good reason why he shouldn't go through with the procedure. He just knew that he felt uneasy about it.

Jonah Cochrane went through the settings on the replicator in his storeroom, making sure that it was functioning correctly. He'd assumed that it would be pumping out mud like all the others on the ship. But of course, it was a stand-alone model. Many of the people using it were artists replicating pieces of their work. They preferred using a system that wasn't linked to the main computer, they didn't like the idea of their work being accessible by anyone else. Even in the 24th century some artists were protective of their intellectual property rights. 

At least it meant the storeroom was mud-free, not like his and T'Pris's quarters. The replicator there had filled the shared section, forcing them to retire to their separate bedrooms. The continued intruder alert had kept him inside for several hours. The order to go to the storeroom had therefore been a welcome escape, although it meant allowing the mud to flow into his bedroom, and wading through knee high mud to the turbolift. 

The checks were complete, just as Captain Picard entered the storeroom. He held a rack of isolinear chips in one hand.

"Crewman Cochrane?"

"Sir."

"I need this interfacing with the replicator."

"Of course."

Cochrane took the rack from the captain and fitted it into the replicator. The captain's eyes never left the rack.

"May I ask what's stored there?"

Picard hesitated for a moment, then answered "Me. I am."

"Sir?" Cochrane asked. Picard seemed very distracted, lost in thought. 

"My transporter trace downloaded." The Captain hesitated. He very rarely talked through his feelings, even with the Counsellor, but he suddenly felt the need to talk this thing through one last time. After the conversation with Lady Perrin he had gone to the transporter room and asked Geordi to transport him, not to anywhere, but just to upload his transporter trace into the computer. Beverly had sedated him and Geordi had activated the transporter, dematerialising then rematerialising him. The trace would now be of a sedated Picard, ready for replication. But now it came to it he was having serious doubts. Picard had the uneasy feeling after he had been revived that it was he that was the copy, and that the real Picard was stored on the rack of isolinear chips. 

"Can that really be me, there stored on a set of isolinear chips?" he asked, the words felt torn from him.

"I don't know sir. Who can tell? When we're transported how do we know we're the same when we come out?"

"Ah, transporter existentialism."

"Consciousness is an emergent property of sub-quantum processes within the brain." Cochrane spoke absently while he tapped instructions into the replicator. "The transporter can't measure sub-quantum processes, after all, that's what the Heisenberg Compensators are compensating for." He finished keying in the sequence. "So how do we know we're the same people after we've been transported? The you in there," he pointed to the replicator. "Will think slightly differently from you, and if we replicate him again, he'll be different again."

"But if I kill him, will I have committed murder?"

"Perhaps, but what if I erase his data from the replicator before replicating him? Will I have killed him then? And his data will still be stored there after replication. If I erase the data then, will I have killed the person that remains in the replicator?" Cochrane checked the readout. "A couple more minutes, sir, then we can replicate you."

The two men stood in silence for a few minutes, Picard brooding intently. Then he came to a decision.

"I've changed my mind crewman. Delete the data. I won't replicate myself. There has to be an alternative."

T'Pris stood on the surface of Legara IV, between Commander Riker and Counsellor Troi, her Legaran pot held in her hands. The mud was knee deep near to the homing beacon, a relatively dry spot. She had been requested to join the landing party in order to mind-meld with the Legarans. According to the mission briefing these Legarans understood non-Legaran customs and so were unlikely to eat them. Lieutenant Worf and three security guards accompanied them, just in case.

Legara IV was dark, and foreboding. Legara was a faint white dwarf and little light reached the surface. Although she wore an environment suit she felt cold. One of the guards pointed. Undulations moved through the mud then suddenly all around them appeared Legarans, lifting the fronts of their bodies above the mud and falling with a slapping motion into it – the Legaran display of welcome, apparently. 

T'Pris walked towards the nearest Legaran and removed her glove. The cold bit into her skin, briefly, before she touched the flesh of the large slug-like creature. Its slime oozed over her hand, forming a protection from the wind, and she moved her hand slowly over its grey flesh, attempting to form a link.

Thoughts came flooding immediately into her head, a ritual of greeting, precise formulations of etiquette, shaded with a wry humour, all of which she matched precisely according to her mission briefing.

Even before the mind-meld was over the Legaran had begun budding, a small bubo of flesh forming in its flank. T'Pris formed a profuse formal thanks, then broke off the lump of flesh from the Legaran and placed it in her pot.

The Legarans surrounding the landing party slapped their bodies against the mud again signifying the end of the formalities. 

Without a word being spoken, the meeting was over. The visitors dissolved into light, their emissary from the planet contained in a small clay pot.

At the transporter room Picard took the clay pot from the ensign. She had performed well, especially for one so young. He would append a commendation to her next report. The group walked through the corridor, now almost oblivious to the mud that seeped around their feet. Decks eight through eleven were now flooded sufficiently for the Legaran to travel between them. The nearest was deck eight.

The turbolift disgorged its quantity of mud as the doors opened. Picard, T'Pris, Deanna and Worf entered, taking the short ride down to the deck below. As the doors opened the Legaran Representative was waiting for them.

It undulated towards them. Pseudopodia extended from its body, reaching for Picard. He held the pot before him, upending it so that the small lump of flesh from the Legarans fell – to be snatched from the air by one of the tentacles writhing before them.

The small lump was drawn within the body of the Representative and a few moments passed. Then the Representative withdrew a few metres and lay there motionless.

"Counsellor?" Picard asked.

"I'm feeling an almost overwhelming sense of embarrassment from the Representative. That more than anything. Although the desire to communicate is still there."

"Ensign, would you?" Picard stepped aside for T'Pris.

T'Pris extended her hand towards the Representative, touching the pseudopodium nearest to her. Again thoughts flooded her mind. She admired the precision and the formality and the complexity of the ideas that surrounded her. With an effort she withdrew and relayed the communiqué.

"The Representative wishes to express his apologies for his breach of etiquette in eating two of your colleagues. It hopes that you will forgive him this social gaffe. Similarly it regrets the changes made to your environment, he sought only to improve them on your behalf. It was not aware that you liked these hard dry spaces and merely believed you had not fully mastered your technology. I .. er .." she hesitated. "I replied on your behalf sir, I hope that was in order."

"What did you say, ensign."

"I replied that these minor misunderstandings are inevitable when two peoples meet for the first time, and that we fully accepted its apology."

"Anything else?"

"That it regrets not being able to communicate with yourself, sir, but rejoices in at last consuming its fellow Legarans from – the word's untranslatable, sir, but it relates to the repugnance he feels for the type of mud they live in. The Legaran hopes that the visitors from off-world will be able to facilitate many more such exchanges of – again the word is untranslatable but the meaning is a combination of 'cordialities' 'ideas' and 'food'."

"We'll pass his request on to the Federation Council. Is that all?"

"It would like to go home, sir."

"Could you convey to the Representative our profound pleasure that we have experienced in sharing his company, our resolve to aid him in his continued communication with and consumption of his fellow Legarans, and our hopes that we may be able to host his person in the not-too-distant-future."

T'Pris returned to her mind-meld and communicated the Captain's words. The Legaran slapped the mud surrounding him several times, which T'Pris copied. Then withdrew. Their audience was over.

Cochrane and T'Pris walked along the corridor towards their quarters, T'Pris carrying the small clay pot. The Representative had been beamed down to the surface and the intruder alert had been ended. Children ran along from door-to-door revelling in the mud that covered the floor, throwing handfuls of it at each other, making up for all the cooped up hours they'd endured while the Legaran had been loose on the ship.

Riker approached them. "Ah, Crewman Cochrane, Ensign T'Pris, just the people I wanted to see. The captain has placed a commendation on your report. Congratulations, you'll make Lieutenant Junior Grade before long. Cochrane - until we reach starbase 330 you will be acting senior quartermaster."

"Thank you sir."

"Don't thank me, just - " a handful of mud splattered his uniform – Cochrane heard a gasp from behind him and a child's laughter "just get this ship clean."

Cochrane looked at the thick mud oozing round his ankles, the smears of mud on the walls. He looked back at Riker and nodded forlornly.

****


	2. Pon Farr

****

2 Pon Farr

Jonah deprogrammed the last of the cleaning robots. It had taken close to a month, but the last of the mud that had contaminated the _Enterprise_ had been cleared away. Knowing his luck, now that the ship was finally clean it'd probably get blown up or crash in a planet or something. It hadn't helped being also responsible for the issuing of the new style combadges to all of the crew. That had taken almost a week. Cochrane wondered why Starfleet couldn't just pick a design of insignia and uniform they liked and then stick to it. Every time they changed it was a major job for the quartermasters to distribute the new equipment. At least tomorrow he'd be able to get back to his routine work.

He approached his quarters with some trepidation. T'Pris had been very withdrawn recently – nothing had been said but the atmosphere around her seemed tense. She'd frequently sit all evening in her room without coming out, and snap at him if he asked her anything, or ignore him completely. If she hadn't been Vulcan Jonah would have described her as "moody".

Once in the quarters that he shared with T'Pris he selected _plomeek_ soup with a wholemeal roll from the replicator and carried it towards the table. At that moment T'Pris entered the shared area from her bedroom. Ignoring Jonah she headed towards the door.

"Hi, T'Pris" Jonah called to her "want some soup? I just replicated it."

T'Pris was short and slender for a Vulcan, but as with all members of her species, she was very strong - and fast. Before he realised what was happening he had been thrown across the room, the soup splattered all over him and the walls. His chest ached where her fist had struck him and he lay on the floor struggling for breath.

"Damned interfering _qomi_ moron" T'Pris screamed at him. The door slid open and she was gone.

Dr. Crusher examined Jonah's chest as he sat on the edge of one of the biobeds in the sickbay.

"There's some bruising around the ribs, which would account for the painful breathing." She said. "I'll just repair the damaged tissue with a dermal regenerator." The doctor moved the instrument over Jonah's chest. His breathing became easier. "How did this happen? It looks like someone has hit you."

"Errrm," Jonah shifted uncomfortably. "I'd rather not say, doctor. It was probably my fault anyway."

"Was it Ensign T'Pris? On your records it says you share quarters with her. I've been hearing reports that she's been behaving very erratically recently. Do you know what the problem is?"

"No, doctor, I don't." Jonah stood up

"You shouldn't conceal anything." Crusher looked closely at Jonah's face, trying to read his expression, seeing if he was hiding anything. He avoided looking her in the eyes. "It won't go any further. But we need to know if there's anything wrong so that we can help her."

Jonah looked at her. Crusher saw the confusion and concern in his eyes. "Believe me, Doctor. I don't know. If I did I'd tell you. I'm really worried. I've never seen her like this before."

Deanna Troi entered Ten-Forward and saw Beverly at a table close to an observation window. She sat down opposite her and ordered a chocolate sundae from the waiter that came to serve her. Even without her empathic ability, the look of concern on Beverly's face would have alerted her.

"What is it, Beverly? You seem very concerned about something."

Beverly prodded thoughtfully at her _jumja_ sorbet, then answered. "It's Ensign T'Pris. You know she attacked her partner this evening."

"Jonah Cochrane? No, they're not partners. They just share quarters. They are very close friends, but not more. Vulcans very rarely bond outside of their species. Most other species find the lack of emotion very difficult to come to terms with." Deanna broke off as the waiter approached. She took a mouthful of chocolate sundae, and, when the waiter had left, resumed. "He's been coming to see me recently to discuss it. He doesn't know why she's acting the way she is, but wants to help. He cares a great deal about her."

"Could that be it, tension between them? After all, if he loves her, but she's incapable of feeling anything for him ..."

"Perhaps. But surely she would react logically to a situation like that. She is not displaying behaviour that is at all possible for a Vulcan. At least as far as I understand them. I feel a great deal of tension and anger and even … " Deanna paused "_sexual frustration_ from her. And it's increasing quite dramatically." Deanna dabbed at her sundae again. "Did you know that T'Pris has asked for an encoded message to be sent to the Vulcan High Council? And they replied to her – also encoded. I feel there must be something seriously wrong."

"Perhaps I should order her to come to sickbay for a check-up."

"And look in the medical records. Perhaps there's something on file about Vulcan physiology that could explain this."

Jonah couldn't sleep. Even though T'Pris slept in the other room across the shared area of their quarters, he could always sense her when she was close, which was in itself very comforting. She was still out, however, and he could feel her absence. He was also very worried about her. In the mood she was in when she left she could have done anything.

Jonah decided to do find her, to at least see if she was OK. He could always visit the doctor if she decided to bruise his ribs again. According to the computer she was in the arboretum. 

The decks were all in semi-darkness, partially simulating night to keep the crew's circadian rhythms functioning. Up on deck 17 the arboretum was much darker. Many of the crew liked to meet in the arboretum at night, taking advantage of the darkness for their trysts. Cochrane felt embarrassed to be there on his own, although he realised most of the people there were too preoccupied to notice him. The whispered conversations and – he guessed – furtive couplings that surrounded him accentuated his own sense of isolation. He was also worried that as he searched through the bushes and trees for T'Pris that someone might mistake him for a peeping tom. 

He found T'Pris sitting on a bench, staring out through an observation window. He often saw others looking though the windows in that manner. He had once been talking to Guinan in Ten-Forward and she'd told him they were looking for the star they called home. Cochrane had been born and brought up in space and had been twelve before he'd first set foot on a planet, so couldn't really do the same, but he could identify with the desire to be home, even though he had none. He guessed that T'Pris was looking out at the stars looking for Vulcan.

He approached her cautiously, not through fear of her anger, but in case he was invading her privacy.

"T'Pris?" he whispered.

She looked round at him. He saw tears in her eyes and reached for her. She collapsed into his arms, her head pressed against his chest, and began sobbing uncontrollably.

Rumours spread quickly on a starship. Within a day the entire crew had heard of the Romulan scout ship that had rendezvoused with the _Enterprise_ and that the bridge crew had been in conference for several hours with the three people that had been aboard. There was speculation about what this could mean, often the crew might never find out, if it was a secret diplomatic mission or involved a select away team then the events would not touch them, and the general log may only have the vaguest reference to the activities. On the other hand, with Romulans involved, the likelihood of running into a Warbird was high, and if the _Enterprise_ came under attack then everyone would know it.

Jonah checked on the general log every hour or so, to see if any mention had been made of what was happening, but nothing appeared. It must be highly secret if the crew were not being informed at all. He was very surprised, therefore, when his combadge signalled and he received an order from the Captain to go to the Observation Lounge. Usually only senior officers were involved in these high-level briefings and Cochrane had never been involved in a situation that was so secretive.

Cochrane entered the Observation Lounge. What first struck him were the large observation windows displaying an impressive view of the starfield surrounding them. The _Enterprise_ was stationary at the moment, so no star streaming was apparent. Cochrane switched his attention to the two men in the room. One man standing in front of him was the captain. Sitting at the table was a middle-aged Vulcan. Cochrane realised with a shock that he recognised the man. It was Ambassador Spock. Cochrane was overwhelmed. This man was probably the most famous living person in the Federation, particularly because of his exploits around a century earlier on the first two _U.S.S. Enterprise_s_._ Cochrane wondered what the Ambassador could possibly want with him.

"Crewman Cochrane," the Captain spoke to him. "I'd like you to meet Ambassador Spock." The only time Cochrane had met the Captain before, Picard had been about to undergo replication, and was very uncomfortable with the idea. Cochrane had seen a side of him that he'd been surprised to see, but pleasantly so. Picard had been unsure of himself, even vulnerable. Not at all as Cochrane had expected the Captain to be like. Now, though, he was confidant and very much in command, even in front of such a powerful and important person as the Ambassador.

Cochrane raised his right hand in the _ta'al_ gesture of greeting. "_Mene sakkhet ur-seveh_, Ambassador," he managed to say, his ability to pronounce the Vulcan faltering under the circumstances.

"Live long and prosper" the Ambassador replied. He motioned for the Captain and Jonah to be seated. 

"I requested your presence because circumstances require that Ensign T'Pris accompany me on my journey to Vulcan. She is required to take part in a ritual at her home and is entitled to request that a close friend accompany her. She has requested you. Before you agree to the journey I must be sure that you are ready to undertake that which is required of you and that you keep what you see on Vulcan to yourself."

"I am ready, sir."

"Don't reply too quickly, Crewman, before you know what will be expected of you." Cochrane felt the presence of the man dominating the room. He met the Ambassador's eyes and felt them look deep within him. "I understand that you have spent some time on Vulcan," the Ambassador asked.

"Yes, sir."

"And do you know of the ritual known as _koon-ut-kal-if-fee?_"

"No, sir

"Then you are not prepared for what may await you."

"With respect, sir, if T'Pris wants me to go with her, then that's all I need to know. Whatever it takes I'll be there for her."

Spock looked briefly at Picard and nodded. "We shall see."

Jonah and T'Pris entered the shuttlecraft bay. They had received their disembarkation orders and were to travel on the _U.S.S. Tycho Brahe_,leaving on stardate 48121.4. The _Tycho_ _Brahe_ was a Danube-class runabout and could accommodate the people who would be travelling to Vulcan quite comfortably for the eight days it would take. On this flight there would be seven people – in addition to Jonah and T'Pris there would be Ambassador Spock, two Romulans, the pilot - a young Andorian ensign named Anthas - and, in command of the mission, Lieutenant Worf. 

Worf looked over the final two people as they came on board. Crewman Cochrane he did not know, Ensign T'Pris would normally have been more of a measurable quantity. He had accompanied her on the away mission to Legara IV and she had handled herself well. However, Doctor Crusher had informed him that she may behave quite erratically during the next few weeks. The Doctor had found in the files a veiled reference to a condition called _pon farr_, which Vulcans underwent occasionally. The reason for this was not clear, but T'Pris seemed to be exhibiting all of the symptoms. He was not looking forward to the mission anyway, and this latest information was not welcome. He already had to supervise two Romulans - who claimed to be diplomatic envoys concerned with the reunification of Vulcan and Romulus, but, knowing Romulans lack of trustworthiness, probably weren't – and these in the company of Ambassador Spock. Not that he was anticipating trouble from Spock, but if anything were to happen to him, the political ramifications would be immeasurable. He glanced across at Anthas as she ran through the pre-flight check one last time. At least here was a reliable quantity. Although only just out of the Academy the young Andorian was one of the best small-ship pilots on the _Enterprise_, at least according to Commander Riker. Anthas ran her hand through her short-cropped white hair, then along her right antenna, a gesture of impatience. Andorians were supposed to be a warrior race, aggressive and passionate. Worf felt he stood a chance of understanding her. Not like Betazoids. Perhaps this mission was for the best. Eight days away from Deanna would be preferable at this moment, since her announcement that she wanted to call off the relationship. 'It didn't feel right', was all she'd say on the matter. Worf guessed her continued friendship with Will Riker was something to do with it.

Anthas had clearance from the bridge. The shuttlebay doors opened revealing a starfield of a thousand points of light. The _Tycho Brahe_ lifted gently from the floor of the shuttlebay and passed through the bay doors. The sudden change from enclosed space to limitless expanse could be momentarily disorientating, but Anthas seemed unmoved. She tapped a sequence into her control panel and the _Tycho Brahe_ went to warp. The _Enterprise_ disappeared instantaneously behind them. The journey had begun.

T'Pris's behaviour confused Jonah. She'd requested that he accompany her on her trip to Vulcan, yet she practically ignored him for most of the time, withdrawing into a corner and brooding silently. Occasionally he'd find her in deep and earnest conversation with Ambassador Spock, but the conversations ceased when he got within earshot. Commander Worf was preoccupied with observing the Romulans whom, Cochrane discovered were named Katrin and Rohan. Besides, Cochrane felt uncomfortable around the Klingon. He struck up a few conversations with Anthas. Never having met an Andorian before he was curious about their culture and their planet. Each time he did so, however, T'Pris would interrupt and draw his attention away, then soon withdraw and become silent again. Although not an empath, Jonah was aware that the Vulcan was torn between various pressures, though what they were he couldn't determine. The runabout had accommodation for six people, Anthas and Worf alternated their occupation of their shared bunk, sleeping there while the other was on duty. The quarters were cramped however, and Jonah soon found the inability to escape from the atmosphere created by T'Pris's behaviour very trying. Then on the second night, while he lay awake, the confusions of the previous day running through his head, he felt someone slip quietly into his bed. It was T'Pris. She held him tightly, he put his arms around her, unsure of what she wanted from him. She began to sob quietly. Jonah caressed her hair and she soon fell asleep. Jonah, however, lay awake all night.

On the third day the _Tycho Brahe_ was hailed. Anthas called Worf.

"Sir, there's a ship. They're asking to speak to Ambassador Spock."

"Ask them to identify themselves."

"They claim to be a delegation from Vulcan. On board the _T'Lar_."

"Are they on our sensors?"

"On screen, sir."

Anthas tapped her control panel. A Vulcan shuttle appeared on the screen before them.

"Put them through" Worf ordered.

An elderly Vulcan appeared on the screen. Spock spoke from behind Anthas and Worf. 

"Greetings, Savrik."

"Greetings, Spock. You have the two Romulan delegates with you?"

"They are here."

"And their wish to discuss extended contact between our two planets is genuine?"

"I believe so."

"Ah, unfortunate."

"Savrik?" Spock's reaction could have been read as surprise, if surprise were not an emotion.

"No matter. And the young woman who wished to return to Vulcan, is she there too?"

"T'Pris. Yes she is here. Her time is nearly upon her."

"Thank you for providing a pretext for her journey to Vulcan. It was fortuitous that your journey took you to the Federation starship on which she was serving. We must work quickly if we are to conceal such aberrations from these _tviokh_ that surround us." Savrik beckoned to someone off-screen. A younger male Vulcan appeared. "This is her _adun,_ Selik."

"Greetings. Can I assume that this is the purpose of your interception of us? To facilitate the early meeting of these two."

"You may assume that, yes. However," the Vulcan made a hand gesture to someone off-screen. "You would be in error to do so." 

An alarm sounded that almost drowned out his last words. Anthas's control console lit up with a series of warning lights.

"What is it?" Worf sprang to the pilot's side as she frantically tapped sequences n the panel.

"I'm not sure, the warp engine suddenly went off-line. The plasma flow is interrupted. We're facing a warp-core breach in ten seconds."

"Jettison the warp-core."

Anthas did so. The runabout juddered as it recoiled from the ejection. Several of the warning lights winked out.

"And raise the shields."

"I'm trying, sir. They don't respond."

"_T'ruk-D'h_" Worf swore. "Prepare to fire."

"Oh, I would not do that, Klingon," Savrik warned. "Without shields you are extremely vulnerable. For instance, unshielded there is nothing you can do to prevent us transporting another of these" he held up a large metal cylinder "into your ship. Except next time" Savrik paused for effect, "our transporter will target a life form rather than a ship's system. A Klingon perhaps, or maybe an Andorian. A rather unpleasant experience I should imagine, having a block of dentarium transported into your body."

"What do you want?" Worf demanded.

"To talk, nothing else. Do not worry, you will not be harmed. As long as you do as we say." 

Worf was livid. He had been unprepared. He had trusted the Vulcans because he had relied on the Ambassador's judgment, but Vulcans were notoriously gullible. Or perhaps simply trusting. After all, it had been the man who now faced him who had first begun the negotiations between the Federation and the Empire that led to the Khitomer accords. He had been one of the few to trust Klingons at that time.

Now Worf had to decide what to do to limit the damage that had been done. The _T'Lar_ was towing them towards a nearby planet, but so far there was no indication that they would be harmed. The _Tycho Brahe_ had impulse power, but no warp drive. The _T'Lar_ was also blocking their subspace signal. Worf had looked over the shield generators. They were irreparable. A solid block of dentarium protruded from the generators' casing.

"How did they manage to transport those cylinders into our warp drive through their shields?" Anthas asked.

"They didn't," Worf answered. "They'd probably programmed a remote to do it." Worf considered his options. "We could probably hit it with our phasers, but they may have many of them. We couldn't hit all of them at once, and it would only take one and …." It was a coldly logical method of waging war – no physical contact, no mass destruction, just small blocks of metal transported purposefully into the bodies of their opponents.

"Could we break free of the tractor beam?" Anthas asked.

"We could, but they could easily catch us up again. And where could we go?" Worf cursed under his breath. "Without a warp drive it would take us years to reach the nearest inhabited planet."

"So we surrender?"

"No!" Worf refused to accept that as an alternative. "We wait – and seize the opportunity when it presents itself."

Six hours later the _T'Lar_ with the _Tycho Brahe_ in tow entered the atmosphere of a class-M planet that was not recorded on any of the charts held in the runabout's database. Worf chose this moment to make a move against the Vulcans.

"We can't let them choose our landing place, who knows what reinforcements they may have on the ground." He spoke to Anthas. "Use the gravity of the planet to assist – use a deep angle of descent then pull away."

Anthas placed her hands on the console and rapidly began tapping a sequence of instructions. The runabout tipped forward and shot past the Vulcan shuttle in front of them. An alarm sounded again.

"Impulse engines off-line. We're falling."

The atmosphere of the planet began buffeting the runabout. Worf strapped himself in. He hoped his passengers had done the same in their quarters. The _Tycho Brahe_ had too great an angle of descent. Anthas began trying to pull up the nose of the runabout, attempting to establish a glide trajectory. The hull temperature began to rise dangerously high. The ship shook, as if it were about to fall apart, then the motion ceased.

"They've locked onto us again. They're bringing us in."

The _T'Lar_ reappeared on the viewscreen. Clouds passed by them, then the ground appeared. The surface was red and dusty. There appeared to be no vegetation, no signs of life of any sort. The ships' descent slowed further as they neared the ground. Before them a small compound appeared on the otherwise utterly bare plain. It was a circle of prefabricated huts surrounded by a simple metal fence. The _T'Lar_ passed slowly above the compound, holding the _Tycho_ _Brahe_ below it. The tractor beam was turned off and the runabout fell the ten metres to the ground with a jolt. The impact produce a large cloud of dust and sand that filled the compound then slowly settled.

In a cabin at the back of the runabout Jonah let out his breath. His neck ached from whiplash he'd received as the runabout had hit. T'Pris had been squeezing his hand. He slowly uncurled her fingers from it. "I'm just going outside" he told her.

Outside the runabout Worf was checking the compound, his phaser held out before him. Anthas was looking at the impulse engines. Solid blocks of dentarium were embedded in the engine casings, where the T'Lar had transported them. That explained why they had suddenly gone off-line. The warp nacelles were similarly damaged.

"Hi, Anthas," Jonah spoke to her. She looked up at him briefly, then went back to checking over them. "Any chance of fixing them?" he asked her. She shrugged.

"There might be enough salvageable from two of them to put together one single one." She ran her finger over the dentarium block where it had fused with the impulse engine. She looked up at the sky. The sun was nearing the horizon. "Anyway, whatever we do it'll have to wait until tomorrow."

Jonah wandered round to the front of the _Tycho Brahe_. He looked at the nose section, which had been burnt to a burnished gold colour by the heat of re-entry, which Jonah thought was appropriate. He looked back at the runabout exit hatch. The two Romulans were disembarking.

"So what are the Vulcans up to now?" Katrin asked, to no-one in particular. Jonah followed her line of sight, and saw Spock talking to two figures at the far side of the compound.

"I have no idea," Jonah replied. "Let's find out." The three of them, Jonah and the two Romulans, walked across the compound, dust kicked up round them as they walked. As they neared the figures it was obvious that they were actually holograms standing within the circle of a holo-emitter platform. Of course, their captors would not want to enter the compound, that would put themselves at risk.

"… food and water provided by replicators", the one who was not Savrik was saying. "You are free to wander as you wish. However, there is no where for you to go. The planet is entirely uninhabited."

"All that we ask is that you listen to us" Savrik continued. "We want to persuade you of the foolishness in dealing with the _tviokh_ as you are doing. Three days, that is all we ask. Then you will all be free to go."

"What about the two who are undergoing _pon_ _farr_? What provision has been made for them?" Spock asked.

"Selik is receiving the attention he needs. His _aduna_ is your responsibility" Savrik replied.

Worf had joined them. He eyed the two Romulans suspiciously, then turned on the Vulcans.

"I am Lieutenant Worf of the Starship _Enterprise_. I demand the release of my …" Worf broke off. The Vulcans had disappeared. Worf gave a snarl of anger. "Arrogant _pahtks_," he yelled into the air. Jonah, Spock and the two Romulans stepped back from him, unsure of what the Klingon would do. He swept the four with a furious look, then stalked off back to the runabout. Jonah breathed out shakily. This would be an extremely long three days.

"Who are they?" Worf demanded of Spock.

"The highest probability is that they are Vulcan Isolationists," Spock replied. "Savrik is well-known as a reactionary within the Vulcan High Council. They are opposed to the Reunification movement. Perhaps they plan to try and persuade me to end my diplomatic attempts with the Romulans." Spock thought for a few moments. "I don't think they will harm us."

Worf grunted his disbelief. He had checked the perimeter of the camp earlier that morning. There had been nothing stopping him leaving the compound, but beyond lay nothing but desert. Savrik had been right. There was nowhere for them to go. All of their communications were being jammed too. Not only could they not use the subspace radio on the _Tycho Brahe_, they couldn't talk to each other on their combadges either. 

Worf and Spock were sitting in the largest of the prefabricated domes, the one that had been designated the evening before as the meeting-place. The others had become quarters for the seven prisoners. Each dome had replicators and places to sleep, but nothing else. "Ensign Anthas and I will attempt to repair the runabout. You talk to Savrik and the others. Persuade them to let us go. "

"If you request it, Lieutenant. However, if I know Savrik, nothing will make him change his mind."

Spock's passivity angered Worf. The man seemed prepared to simply wait out the captivity. Worf needed action. He left the main dome and walked across the centre of the compound to the runabout. Ensign Anthas and Crewman Cochrane were dismantling the impulse engines with tools Anthas had replicated. Damaged sections had been discarded in a pile to one side, the rest were laid out carefully.

"Where is Ensign T'Pris?" Worf asked them. 

"I'm not sure." Cochrane answered.

"And the Romulans?"

The other two shook their heads. Worf swore to himself. Romulans were notoriously untrustworthy, and he was the only member of Starfleet here with experience of them. Ensigns Anthas and T'Pris were competent enough, but too naïve to be relied upon. He left the runabout and began trying to find the Romulans.

Cochrane and Anthas turned their attention back to the runabout. They were making good progress and had developed an easy working relationship, Anthas taking the lead in the work, Cochrane helping where he could. It was Cochrane's first experience of an Andorian, and despite having become accustomed to the unemotional nature of T'Pris over the previous months, he had quickly found Anthas's outbursts of venom as she swore at an unyielding item endearing rather than intimidating.

The heat of the desert had taken its toll on both of them. Anthas had removed her jacket and the singlet she wore left her neck and shoulders exposed to the sun. Both of them were unused to ultraviolet rays – a result of living the majority of their lives on board a starship - and the sun had burnt her pale blue skin a raw purple colour. Jonah had found a dermal regenerator and had repaired the damage, and was rubbing a sunblock cream over Anthas's skin when T'Pris appeared.

"So," T'Pris confronted them. "Instead of working on the runabout you waste your time engaged in sexual dalliance. Is Lieutenant Worf aware of this?"

Jonah surprised himself by feeling guilty, even though he had not been doing anything of a sexual nature, and even if he had, his relationship with T'Pris was only a platonic one. Even so he began responding apologetically "T'Pris - it's not what you …" Jonah got no further. Anthas had pulled away from him and was standing only a few centimetres from T'Pris, yelling into her face.

"Damn Vulcan prig, who the hell do you think you are you…?" after which Jonah only heard a string of Andorian invective which his Universal Translator could not, or would not, render into his own language.

T'Pris stood there unmoved, then responded with a look of sheer contempt and walked away. Anthas clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to control her temper. 

"I'd better see if she's OK." Jonah said.

"Tell that _pahtk_ to stay out of my way." Anthas snarled.

"She's not normally like this – she's not been herself" Jonah thought better of continuing his feeble attempt to placate the Andorian and hurried after his friend.

Meanwhile Worf had tracked down the two Romulans. They were outside the compound surveying the desert that surrounding the small encampment. Worf confronted them.

"In future you will inform me if you leave the compound."

Rohan glanced at the Klingon then returned to gazing out into the distance. "I don't think so. I'm not answerable to you, or any Klingon _fvai_."

Worf's response was instant. He struck the Romulan with the back of his hand. Rohan fell to the ground. He sat there sitting dazedly touching his lip where a thin trickle of green had appeared. He looked up at Worf, standing there tensed, waiting for an attack, and prepared to kill if there was one, and stayed where he was.

In the dome that had become their quarters Jonah was consoling T'Pris. He had found her on her bunk, staring at the ceiling.

"What's the matter, T'Pris?" he asked her. "Are you OK? You've been acting … differently."

She was silent for so long Jonah wondered if she'd heard him, or if he'd offended her and she was ignoring him. Eventually she spoke.

"It's … it's to do with biology."

"What? Vulcan biology? You mean, the biology of Vulcans?"

"Well of course. What else?" T'Pris looked at him, a puzzled expression on her face.

"It's just, you seem so … emotional at times."

"It happens periodically. Every seven years. Male Vulcans go through an emotional cycle. It's called _pon_ _farr._" T'Pris dropped her voice. "It's unusual for Vulcan females to experience it. Savrik called me an aberration. That's why they want to cover up my real reason for going home. They wouldn't admit to anything so illogical, or even emotional, but I think Savrik and Spock are actually ashamed of _pon_ _farr_, and of a female experiencing it especially." T'Pris looked up at Jonah. "It's a sort of inheritance of our past," she explained. "We get an urge to return to our home planet. And instead of returning home," she reflected, "I'm trapped here."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Jonah asked.

"Just stay with me. Talk to me. Help me get through it."

Jonah nodded. Maybe the three days wouldn't seem so long after all.

The sun was nearing the horizon again. The seven prisoners were ending the first full day of their confinement. Two figures appeared within the circle of the holo-emitters. Spock approached them. It was Savrik and the other Vulcan from the previous night, whom Savrik had introduced as Toroth.

"Live long and prosper, Spock." Savrik raised his hand in the _ta'al_ gesture. Spock did not respond.

"You disapprove of our actions, then?"

"You confine us against our will, trap us on this inhospitable planet and deny us the chance to contact either the _Enterprise_ or Vulcan. Of course I disapprove."

"But, Spock, consider instead the opportunity we have presented you. The opportunity to observe at close hand the behaviour of those species with whom you would expect us to consort. For example, the Andorian female. Labouring for hours to reconstruct a vehicle which logically can never fly again. Or the human male, attracted to both of the Starfleet ensigns, yet incapable of acting on his desires, and with no awareness of how futile such feelings are. Or the Romulans and the Klingons, driven to conflict, unable to suppress their base angers, their hostility revealing the racism they cannot escape. And you expect us to treat these people as equals?"

"Yes. Yes I expect you to treat them as equals. Remember the teachings of Turovh? That collaboration between peoples is an exchange of what the other lacks, for mutual benefit? Where would the advantage be in collaborating with those who are identical to ourselves? Yes, Worf, Rohan and Katrin have feelings of hostility to each other, but there is much strength and honour there too. The human, Cochrane, may lack awareness of his own emotions and be conflicted in his actions, but his feelings for T'Pris and Anthas lead him to perform many acts of kindness and generosity towards them. And who knows, despite what logic may suggest, Ensign Anthas may yet repair the runabout." 

Toroth and Savrik exchanged glances, then Toroth spoke.

"We will leave you, Spock. Perhaps another day here will help you to see things in a different light." The figures dissolved leaving Spock alone in the desert evening. 

T'Pris and Jonah lay next to each other in the narrow bunk. Neither of them could sleep. As Jonah had gone to his own bunk, T'Pris had climbed in next to him and held him close to her. Jonah had hoped that this was an invitation for a sexual advance, an opportunity for him to demonstrate that his feelings for her were more than platonic, but when he had begun to kiss her, she had pulled away from him. Of course, he had admonished himself, she's a Vulcan, they don't do that sort of thing. He had apologised and instead just held her, providing her with whatever comfort she needed during this "emotional" period. Suddenly T'Pris sat up.

"What's the matter?" Jonah asked her.

"It's no good." She climbed out of their bed. "I need help resolving the _pon_ _farr_." She began dressing. 

"Where are you going?" 

"The ambassador." 

"Who? Spock?" Jonah asked, but she was gone.

Sleep still evaded Jonah. He wondered what Spock could provide that he couldn't. Probably some Vulcan meditation technique or something. He rubbed his neck where it ached from the whiplash. With no medic on board, no-one had been able to treat it effectively. He lay in his bed awake staring into the darkness, trying to ignore the pain.

The next morning Jonah found T'Pris asleep in her bed. He fixed her breakfast from the replicator and she seemed to have regained much of her equanimity. They had started helping Anthas put together one of the impulse engines, until T'Pris had started lecturing Anthas on the correct alignment of magnetic impulsion coils. Anthas had turned to Jonah and, very quietly, had explained to him that if he didn't get that patronising Vulcan bitch out of her face she would kill her. His Universal Translator hadn't had a problem with that.

Jonah could see that T'Pris was starting to slip back into the malaise of the previous few days and had tried to distract her with one of his own favourite meditation techniques. He had begun creating _eseekas_ in the sand, allowing the gradually evolving shape of the sand pattern to take over his conscious mind. T'Pris had patiently observed for a while, then begun to emulate the human, and form an _eseeka_ of her own. The tension she felt as a result of the continuing pressure of her _plak_ _tow_ was beginning to dissipate when a motion on the other side of the compound distracted her. Two figures had appeared in the circular holo-emitter. T'Pris recognised one of them. It was her _adun_, Selik. The other figure was female.

T'Pris walked over to the holo-emitter and greeted the two Vulcans.

"T'Pris. How are you?" Selik replied. "We are concerned about you, isolated here during your _pon_ _farr_. Have you managed to overcome the _plak_ _tow_?"

"I have managed to deal with it in some measure. As have you I see." T'Pris had noticed the body language between the two Vulcans. They had obviously bonded recently. Seeing her _adun_ still in the throes of the _plak tow_, and with a mate other than herself was unsettling. She attempted to clear her mind of emotion. However, _t'an_ _s'at_ would not come easily. "And if you were so concerned you would not detain us here." 

"I am in agreement with Savrik and the others, and I find no fault in their actions. We must protect ourselves from corruption. Ambassador Spock must be made to see that he is in error for attempting to form an alliance with outworlders." Selik looked with disdain at Jonah who was now standing beside T'Pris.

"You've changed, Selik. I would not bond with you even if I could. I no longer want you."

"But, T'Pris," Selik stepped to the edge of the circle of the holo-emitter. His image stood only a few centimetres from her. "What you want and what you _need_ are two different things."

The woman with Selik took his hand and pulled him out of the circle. Their images disappeared as they left the holo-emitter. T'Pris stood motionless, Jonah turned to her.

"What was that about?"

"Not now, Jonah," T'Pris almost snarled the words. She turned away and began walking purposefully towards the Ambassador's quarters.

"Where are you going now?" Jonah asked but T'Pris ignored him.

Anthas was reassembling the starboard impulse engine of the _Tycho Brahe_. Jonah decided to offer to help her. With all the difficulties he was having talking to T'Pris, working with Anthas was the only thing keeping him sane. 

"How's it going?" he asked.

"OK." Anthas ducked out from under the engine cowling, the light blue of her face was grimed with sand and dust. "But even with this repulsor field it's difficult reassembling and keeping the engine free of sand."

"No problem, I'll replicate something to blow the sand away." Jonah entered the runabout and returned with a small air jet. They worked for a while in silence. The heat started to get to him.

"Are you going to work here all day?" he asked.

"I've nearly finished. We should be able to fly this thing tomorrow some time. I just need to calibrate the thrusters – once I've finished the reassembly."

"But why – where can we go?"

"The Vulcans are only fifty or so kilometres away. We can fly that far, take their shuttle from them and get back to the _Enterprise_ in that. It's unlikely to be that easy – but it's our best chance."

"You managed to work out where they were?"

"The Romulans did – they got our sensors back on-line. Worf found them messing around in the _Tycho_ and threw them out. He hasn't let them out his sight since. I thing there's going to be a big bust-up before too long. That's why I want to get out of here. Even if the Vulcans are going to let us go, I'd rather we got out sooner rather than later."

You don't think they will let us go?"

"Who knows? Who can figure Vulcans?"

"I thought I did .. but then .."

"Oh yes, your girlfriend. Thanks for keeping her out of my way. She really gets on my antennae_._"

"She's just a friend - nothing more. And she's not usually like this. She's going through a bad time – _pon farr_ it's called. It makes her a bit emotional, apparently."

"So why does she spend so much time with the Ambassador? You don't think they're … " Anthas left it unsaid, but Jonah guessed what she meant.

"No, of course not. Any other species I would think that they were both lovers, but T'Pris isn't like that – everything she's ever said about relationships, and sex, has been disparaging. God knows how they do reproduce, but knowing them it would be something … logical."

Anthas and Jonah worked for most of the afternoon. Once the outer casing was back in place, Anthas began sealing the casing with her phaser while Jonah returned to the dome he shared with T'Pris. 

He found her there, she was removing a small metal circlet from her upper arm.

"What's that?" Jonah asked – his heart in his mouth.

She let it drop onto the plain metal table that stood in the middle of their dome.

"It's a conception inhibitor" she answered in a manner that indicated that it should be obvious what it was.

Cochrane felt cold. "What … what for ..?"

T'Pris looked at him with incredulity. "So that I don't get pregnant, what else would it be for?"

"You mean … you've been having sex? With him? With the Ambassador?"

"Of course." T'Pris was almost irritated. "I did tell you. I remember quite clearly informing you that I was with the Ambassador."

"You said to resolve the _pon farr_. I thought that was some meditation technique or something." Jonah was aware he was being unreasonable, that she wasn't his partner. He had no cause to feel jealous. But it seemed so wrong. All he could think of was 'but he's so old'. How old was Spock? 130? 140? Why him? The question screamed inside his head.

"Why him?" he managed to keep his voice level.

"You mean, why him and not you?" Jonah nodded mutely. He didn't want to be the kind of person who would have this kind of conversation but he felt impelled down its path.

"You and I are friends. We are very close. I value that friendship." T'Pris said, almost dismissively. She obviously felt the discussion was beneath her. "I have observed humans and have learnt that when they mate there are many emotions and expectations that are concomitant with the act. I did not wish those associations to accrue around our relationship."

"But you could have chosen me. We've been so close, meant so much. Could you really desire him more than me?" He's so old. You know me so much more. You leave me in the middle of the night when I'm there for you and go to him. You had seemed so disparaging of physical relationships, how could you then behave so completely sexually? So much was running through Jonah's head. But all that came out was "Why not me?"

"The Ambassador understands. He accepts the situations that occur around _pon farr_. He would not be emotional."

"You could have explained to me what you wanted. I could have been unemotional if that's what you needed."

"As you are being unemotional now? I do not think you are capable of it."

She was right. He was too human. Choosing Spock as her lover was the logical decision. But why did it always have to be logic? But of course. Even in the throes of emotion, she was still Vulcan. She could not feel for him what he felt for her. He sat on to his bunk, bewildered by his conflicting feelings.

By his reaction T'Pris could see she'd made her point. Jonah's reaction had disappointed her. Why were humans so complicated? The placidity, the simplicity, of the Ambassador had been a welcome relief from the complexities and demands of relating to Jonah. Perhaps the Isolationists were right. Perhaps Vulcans shouldn't sully themselves with contact with other species.

"T'Pris …" Jonah began.

"I do not wish to discuss the matter further. Please leave."

Jonah hesitated a moment, then also decided it was the best thing for him to do. He left the dome and entered the heat of the desert afternoon.

He walked towards the runabout, still feeling numb, imagining Spock's hands on T'Pris, his elderly body together with hers. The jealousy hit him with a sudden nausea.

Anthas saw him from the runabout and came over to him.

"Are you all right?"

"Ah yes," he managed a smile. "I will be."

"You've found out about Spock and T'Pris, yes?" Anthas asked him.

Jonah was surprised. "How did you know?" 

"It was pretty obvious. I did try to tell you. Remember?" Anthas took his hand. "Come inside, I'll get you a drink."

The runabout was cool and dark compared to outside, Anthas ordered two drinks from the replicator, running her hand through her close-cropped white hair, then along her right antenna. Jonah felt a profound gratitude to the young Andorian. He had really been about to lose it before she'd rescued him.

She handed the drink to him.

"What is it?"

"Barley water. A Terran drink. Very refreshing. Haven't you heard of it? I thought you were Terran."

Jonah shook his head. "Two of my father's parents were, but I've never been there." He took a sip. He felt the tears start to well. "Sorry. This is ridiculous," he apologised. Anthas shrugged.

T'Pris entered the runabout. "Lieutenant Worf has asked one of us to assist him in keeping watch over the Romulans," she informed them. "I thought one of you would be better suited to the task as I will need to check over the impulse engine calibrations."

"I'll go." Jonah replied dully. He felt Anthas stiffen with irritation at T'Pris's officious manner. He didn't need more stress, he thought, and so hurriedly left the _Tycho_. He looked around for Worf and the two Romulans, but couldn't see them. Spock, however, was by the holo-emitter talking to Savrik and Toroth. Jonah felt ill at the thought of talking to the Ambassador, but needed to enquire where Worf was.

The three Vulcans looked at him briefly then returned to their conversation.

"… and as you can see, the diverse species can learn to work and live together," Spock was saying. He touched a mark on his cheek. A bite mark. Jonah saw the gesture, and saw the mark. An image of T'Pris, in the heat of passion, with this man, flooded his vision. The next thing he knew he had flung himself at the Vulcan.

Spock felt the fist hit before he saw the young human move. It caught his upper lip and nose. In a reflex action he administered the _totsu'k'hy_ to the man's neck and Jonah collapsed. Spock dabbed at the blood from his nose. As he looked at the green liquid on his fingers he heard a crash. The fence surrounding the compound collapsed as Katrin fell through. She was followed by Worf, Rohan hanging onto his back. Worf twisted and threw Rohan to the ground, but as he did so Katrin regained her feet and leaped at the Klingon, arms flailing. Spock groaned inwardly. He had hoped to persuade Savrik of the value of interspecies collaboration but now .. he heard another noise. A female scream of rage. T'Pris and Anthas appeared at the door of the runabout. Anthas slapped the Vulcan across the face and T'Pris fell to the ground. Anthas jumped onto her. T'Pris wriggled from under the Andorian. 'At least T'Pris knows how to show control,' Spock thought, but to his dismay T'Pris straddled the Andorian, gripped her antennae and began banging her head against the desert floor. At his feet Jonah stirred. The nerve pinch combined with the poorly treated whiplash combined to create a vicious stabbing pain in his neck. He felt extremely ill. Spock looked around at Klingon fighting Romulan, Andorian against Vulcan, aware that Savrik and Toroth could see the same and would believe this confirmed their every prejudice. He touched the blood-green stain on his robe and only at the exact point that the thought occurred to him that this must be the very nadir of his belief in the essential integrity of the Federation did Jonah vomit over his feet.

Worf ran the medi-scanner over Jonah. He seemed to be all right, but Worf couldn't be sure. They should have brought a medic along with them. But no-one thought this would be anything other than a routine trip to Vulcan.

Even though Worf had been raised amongst humans, they still surprised him sometimes. They seemed to combine the worst, and the best, of all the other species he knew. They could be as logical as Vulcans, as greedy as Ferengi, as coldly callous as Cardassians, as treacherous as Romulans, or, as in the case of this man here, as passionately violent as Klingons. And if there was one feature that was unique to humans it was their adaptability, perhaps they were so adaptable because they were already so many things. Where Klingons would stand firm, solid, until they broke, humans flowed, and adapted and endured.

Jonah started to sit up, then moaned and held his neck. Another thing Worf had noticed about humans, Worf noted as he watched Jonah recover. They seemed to find ways to relate to most other species. Perhaps because they were so diverse they could always find something in common with most of them. Jonah Cochrane had been at the core of this group, not doing much, but keeping the others going, finding something to smooth the way. Things had fallen apart, but without the human they probably would have done so much more quickly. More important even than a medic on an away mission, humans. He'd always choose to have one along. They seemed to be the gel that held the Federation together.

Worf's own fight with the Romulans had been very brief. The three had soon realised the stupidity of their actions and stopped. The two ensigns had not been so easily calmed. Worf had had to physically pull them apart, which had required a lot of strength. When he had been sure that they could be trusted not to renew their fight Worf had looked for Jonah and had found him still curled at the feet of the Ambassador. Worf had carried him to his bunk where he had hardly moved since.

Worf administered a hypo to take away the pain. Jonah muttered his thanks, glanced at the Lieutenant, then groaned and put his head in his hands.

"Sorry, sir," he said "I let the side down."

"No." Worf answered. "The man had taken your _par'machkai_. You behaved as any Klingon would. You behaved with honour."

"But she's not my _par'machkai_. I had no reason to hit the Ambassador. And he's the _Ambassador_! I attacked Ambassador Spock."

"Then he stood in the way of her becoming your _par'machkai_. You fought for your woman. I could not say that you did the wrong thing. There will be no reprimand from me." Jonah nodded his thanks. "However," Worf continued. "It pains me to say this but …" he paused "to live amongst others, those who expect more – control – it is not acceptable to behave in this way." An image from his past filled Worf's mind – a young boy falling, his neck broken. "I have learnt that much self-discipline is required. You should do the same." Jonah nodded.

"Perhaps I should go and apologise to the Ambassador."

"He is meditating and does not want to be disturbed." Jonah was relieved. He didn't want to see him. It still made his skin crawl to think of Spock and T'Pris together.

Worf left Jonah. Night had fallen and he had decided to spend the night sleeping in the runabout in case the Romulans decided to hijack it, although Anthas claimed it was still not flightworthy. Jonah waited for T'Pris to arrive – he wanted to explain himself to her. But she did not appear, it seemed she had chosen to sleep somewhere else that night. Jonah wondered where.

Sleep would not come. He needed to move. He left the dome and entered the compound. 

The desert sky was full of stars. Jonah found them comforting, like being in space. He had spent enough time on planets to feel comfortable on them, but he missed being able to look out at the stars whenever he wished, seeing them surround him. Jonah felt an urge to remove himself from everyone, to be completely alone. He walked through the hole in the fence made by Katrin earlier that day, and walked out into the desert.

He made sure that he kept the compound in view – he didn't want to get lost out in the night – but he walked as far as he could without losing sight of it. He wandered for an hour or so, then sat exhausted by both the effort of walking on the sand and the repeated cycle of thoughts running through his mind. He sat on the top of a dune, looking up at the sky. Imagining he was back in space – travelling between the stars. Towards where he didn't know. Everything was perfectly still, he might be the only person in the Universe. He was alone, just himself and infinity stretching out in all directions. And complete silence. The silence seemed to absorb all of the internal noise, leaving him empty and at peace. He lay back, the chill of the desert night was refreshing after the heat of the day, and he slept.

Jonah woke – momentarily disorientated – and tried to stand on the collapsing sand. He slipped, falling down the side of the dune. He lay for a few moments, then climbed back up to the top of the dune – and could not see the compound. He had climbed up the wrong dune. He tried to retrace his steps, but still could not see the lights of the settlement. He was lost. Trying to stay calm he decided to wait until morning. Perhaps then he'd be able to see his way back.

Anthas shielded her eyes from the light of the sun, trying to see some signs of life amongst the surrounding dunes. She and T'Pris had been searching for several hours, ever since Anthas had discovered that Jonah had gone missing late that morning. T'Pris had spent the night in her dome and they'd spent most of the night talking. The anger that she felt towards T'Pris, that had arisen out of her feelings of protectiveness towards Jonah had gone. She felt she understood the Vulcan now, and felt very drawn to her calmness and quiet intensity. Anthas also accepted that T'Pris did care for Jonah too, in her own particular way. In fact, when they had woken up, several hours after dawn, it had been T'Pris who had requested her to see if Jonah was all right. 

The Andorian had knocked on the door to Jonah's dome, then on no reply had entered. She had begun to become more worried as she'd checked the compound and found no sign of him. She knew he'd been feeling depressed the day before, and she was beginning to fear the worst. She had returned to T'Pris, who shared her concern about what Jonah may have done and the two of them had alerted Worf.

Worf had shared their concerns. The long walk into the desert of the dishonoured male was a common theme in Klingon folklore, and for him it had seemed the natural thing for Jonah to seek a resolution to the events by choosing that course of action. Even though it was an honourable death, Worf had decided that, if he could, he would prevent the crewman from taking it. He had not lost someone under his command for five years and did not want to lose another one ever again. Worf directed the others, therefore, to begin a search of the desert surrounding the compound. Worf and Spock had taken one direction, Anthas and T'Pris another, Rohan and Katrin a third. 

Anthas looked back at the compound to make sure she still had her bearings, then looked over at T'Pris. The Vulcan seemed to have unfailing energy. Even taking into account her species' adaptation to desert life, and the protection her dark skin gave her against the sun, she was pushing herself too hard. If they didn't find him soon then …

A sound interrupted her line of thought. The runabout! Anthas looked back at the compound and saw it rise above the domes, dip uncertainly, then fly slowly towards the east. The Romulans must have been able to get the engine on-line. The runabout listed heavily to one side, with only one engine working its lift was unevenly balanced. Anthas watched the _Tycho_ disappear into the distance, her anger at the theft mixed with pride that she had at least got the runabout working. 

Jonah thought he might die on the sand. The heat had become intense, the sun had climbed almost overhead. It was becoming difficult to see, the glare from the light difficult to endure. He thought it was fitting. All his life he'd been blind to how stupid he was, how pathetic his dreams. Of being a trader like his parents, of graduating from the Academy, of completing the _kohlinahr_ training, of finding happiness with a woman like T'Pris. Perhaps he deserved to die in the desert, from something as pointless as getting lost. He stumbled and fell, the sand hot against his hands. He didn't know if he'd get up again. 

Then he heard a noise, the sound of impulse engines. In the sky to the left he saw a dark shape, it was the _Tycho Brahe_, listing badly to one side. He followed the direction of its flight and judged the direction it must have flown from. Stumbling to his feet he began the slow trudge back to the compound.

Worf' could barely contain his anger as he waited by the holo-emitter for a message from the Vulcans. He had lost one of his team to the desert and now the Romulans had stolen the runabout. The mission itself had fallen apart with infighting and bickering. For Worf leadership was about action, and an enemy to fight, not this delicate balancing of personalities and diplomatic solutions. He above all resented the fact that it had been the Romulans that had acted, by stealing the runabout, leaving him looking weak and passive. With nothing else to do but to wait for a message to find out what had happened.

Luckily for his blood pressure he did not have to wait long to hear from the Vulcans. Toroth appeared. Alone this time. His arm was badly burnt and held in a sling. He looked round at Spock, T'Pris, Anthas and Worf, like an animal at bay. 

"So Spock. Do you stand with us, or against us? Do you defend your Vulcan heritage, or aid its destruction?"

"Preserving the Vulcan inheritance has always been of great importance to me," Spock answered.

Toroth straightened slightly, strengthened by this statement, which he perceived to mean that he had succeeded in changing the Ambassador's mind.

"Vulcan's inheritance is the entire galaxy. It is our privilege to share it with a variety of races, a complete spectrum of cultures. Everything that belongs to them is ours to share. I would not want to deny our race the smallest part of that inheritance."

"What? The masses who alternately copulate and destroy, giving in to their emotions?" Savrik demanded, unaware of the irony of himself displaying the emotional behaviour he was condemning others for using. "Is that what you want for us?" He indicated his arm. "Look what those Romulans inflicted on us."

Spock raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"They attacked us, firing at us from the air. We ran, and they stole our shuttle. Savrik and Selik are both missing. They may have been killed by the runabout's phasers. Two more of us require urgent medical attention. We have had to contact the _Enterprise_. It will be here in 2.3 hours."

"So between us, we did manage to overcome you," T'Pris observed.

"Hardly," Toroth responded again, some of his arrogance returning. "The Romulans stole your runabout, after you repaired it. That is not collaboration."

Worf laughed. "But we're not the ones who require 'urgent medical attention'. You are the ones who have been defeated – admit it."

But as if to refute Worf's statement, at that moment, the most completely defeated of those there, Crewman Jonah Cochrane, stumbled into the circle of the compound, and collapsed.

Jonah lay on his bed in his quarters on the Enterprise. It had been a bad day. He had been discharged from sickbay earlier that day, after several hours of rehydration and dermal regeneration. Anthas had remained by his bedside, apart from time when Riker had debriefed him. Neither Worf nor Spock had placed any discommendation on his report, but his behaviour had not impressed the Commander. 

Jonah had returned to his quarters to discover that T'Pris had moved out. She had left him a note explaining that she didn't think it would be a good idea for them to continue to share. Anthas had dropped by to see how he was, and he had been surprised when she had told him that T'Pris had moved in with her. 

As a parting gift, T'Pris had left for him the Legaran pot that he had so admired. He also found on his bed the ceremonial robe he had given her on the day she had moved in with him and which she had used as a bed covering. He could still smell the scent of her on the robe. Jonah held it close as he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember the silence of the desert.


	3. Veridian

****

3 Veridian

Jonah Cochrane stood at the window of the Observation Lounge, watching the rain beat steadily against it. It had been raining constantly for three days. He had hoped to go out with Anthas, take a shuttle and find a clearing in the forests, maybe have a picnic, but he would have to wait until the better weather. At least it had meant the crew had been concentrating on finishing the work. They were ahead of schedule, at this rate they would be off Veridian III within a few weeks. 

It was stardate 48695, over two weeks since the _Enterprise-D_ had crashed on the planet. Most of the crew had left, leaving only a handful of crewmen behind to clear out the rooms, keep track of the possessions recovered, remove the remaining equipment and stow it all in the cargo containers that squatted next to the ruined saucer. The saucer would soon be gutted, then the engineers would be brought in, cutting the empty husk into pieces of metal for transfer off the planet. Soon nothing would be left except for an ugly scar gouged across the surface of the planet, which would heal. Cochrane had been left in charge of the operation, with a temporary promotion to Petty Officer. The new _Enterprise_, the _Enterprise-E_, would not be commissioned until the following year, which meant extended furlough for the majority of the crew. Having a productive role like this was just what he needed.

Jonah looked round the room. He had hoped to take over the Captain's Ready Room – after all Captain Picard wouldn't be needing it now – but the damage caused by the crash was too great. The outer hull to deck one, which was now the roof, had been holed. Other areas were also in a bad way and most of the bow section of the saucer was off-limits. The clean-up operation had started with this section and it had then been closed off. It had been an unsettling task. The senior crew, who had occupied the forward quarters, had left behind most of their belongings – their duties necessitated them leaving the wreckage and returning to Starfleet Command for debriefing, and the degree of damage prevented them from retrieving most of their belongings. Cochrane and his team had gradually cleared away the debris, revealing the possessions of the _Enterprise_ crew, possessions that had once been part of their home aboard the _Enterprise_, but seemed out of place in their new role as part of the wreckage. In the Captain's Ready Room he had found a Kurlan _naiskos_ – still intact. Cochrane had toyed with the idea of leaving it on his desk during the clean-up, after all he was unlikely to ever see one again and he'd long been fascinated by them. However, having it around would have made him feel sick with worry. Knowing his luck it would have survived 12 000 years, only to be knocked from his desk in a clumsy moment and broken, so it had been packed very carefully away with the rest of Picard's belongings, for forwarding to the new _Enterprise. _

There was someone at the door. It was Anthas.

The Andorian ensign always had a wry grin when she visited Jonah in the Observation Lounge. She'd once explained that it was because she always got the impression when she saw him there of him playing at being a grown-up. Since the crash of the _Enterprise-D_ they had become very close friends. Both enjoyed the chance to explore the planet around them, and both got similar pleasure from taking advantage of the abandoned spacecraft, taking over the VIP quarters, reducing still further what little of the stock in Ten-Forward had survived the crash. Before the rains had started they had taken turns in the Captain's chair, intoning "Make it so" portentously and then giggling. Now, though, the bridge was awash with water and had also been sealed off. This morning Anthas had an even more mischievous grin than usual.

"What is it, An?" Jonah asked, feigning weariness.

"A message just came through. We have a visitor. He's requesting permission to come aboard."

"Who?"

"An old friend of yours."

"_Who_?"

"Ambassador Spock."

"Oh, hell." Jonah groaned. The last time he had seen the Ambassador, Spock was still recovering from a broken nose that Jonah had given him. No-one had reprimanded him for it, and the incident had been quietly ignored, but Jonah still did not relish meeting the man again. Even if he was a Vulcan and so therefore did not harbour grudges, Jonah would still have preferred their paths to never have crossed again. In a galaxy of any reasonable size it should have been possible for them to have comfortably avoided each other for a considerable time. In Jonah's experience, however, things rarely worked out like that.

Spock sat in the chair opposite from Jonah in the Observation Lounge. Jonah and Anthas had met the Ambassador in the main shuttle bay. Even during the brief time the shuttle bay doors had been open, rain had flooded in, together with windblown debris such as leaves and twigs. The novelty of the surreal juxtaposition of spaceship and the elements was beginning to wear thin. Jonah looked out of the large windows at the storm clouds overhead while trying to think of a way to begin the conversation. They had barely spoken during the entire time and Jonah was beginning to find the tension unbearable.

"Ambassador," he began, then faltered. How could he say this? "Ambassador, about the incident when I, er, when we had that disagreement. I deeply regret it, and hope that you accept that I was very upset at the time. I know that's no excuse, but …"

Spock waved the apology aside.

"Think nothing of it. Even for Vulcans in such situations _t'san s'at_ is difficult to accomplish without a _soo-lak_ being present. I hope that you have managed to regain an unemotional stance with regard to the subject."

"Almost, Ambassador. Almost. And … your intention to begin the reunification of Romulans and Vulcans. It seemed apparent that the Romulan delegates left because they became disillusioned regarding the chances of the success of the mission. I assume that this was because they believed you would join the Isolationists, which would be a reasonable conclusion considering that you'd just been whacked in the face by a non-Vulcan. I hope I haven't put back Romulan-Vulcan diplomacy by too many years."

"I think interplanetary diplomacy can survive the occasional broken nose," Spock replied. "Besides, Starfleet Intelligence now reports that Katrin and Rohan were both members of the _Tal Shiar_. It seems that once again the Romulan secret police were exploiting my hopes of Reunification to gain some military or intelligence advantage over Vulcan. By contributing to the failure of the mission you have probably helped Romulan-Vulcan relations."

Jonah nodded. Glad to be of service, he thought. Any time it's helpful to break your nose, just ask. So there would probably be no comeback for the incident from Vulcan or from Starfleet. Seeing the Ambassador still brought back feelings of jealousy, however. He didn't think he could move on quite as quickly as the Ambassador had.

"May I ask what brings you to Veridian III?" Jonah asked.

"It is a personal matter. I shall only be staying for a few days, and will not presume too much on your hospitality. I plan to leave as soon as the weather improves. If you will show me to my quarters."

Jonah nodded and glanced at the clouds. Could that be a patch of blue sky on the horizon?

Later that day Anthas appeared again. Jonah had been reading through Picard's deposition to the Court Martial regarding the circumstances surrounding the destruction of the _Enterprise-D_. Both Picard and Riker were undergoing court martial for the loss of the spacecraft, Picard because he was its captain, Riker because he was in command at the time. The procedure was simply a formality, however. Jonah didn't think there would be any charges, Picard had saved the Veridian System, after all, and the lives of the entire crew. There were certain obvious irregularities in his testimony, however, that Cochrane knew Temporal Investigations would pick up on. Jonah was sure Picard would not have an easy time from the Department, both for the temporal infringements he was admitting to, and for the infringements he appeared to be covering up.

Jonah looked up at Anthas. He hoped it wasn't Spock again. He'd shown the Ambassador to his quarters, finding him rooms with a view of the mountains to the port side of the saucer. Whatever had brought him to the planet, Jonah hoped he would be gone soon.

"Guess who this time?" she asked.

Jonah shrugged.

"Dahar Master Kor, of the Klingon Empire. He's asking for permission to land."

"Well, Number One. Make it so. I'll meet him in the main shuttle bay."

This was becoming bizarre. First Spock, now Kor. Why would both come to this out-of-the-way planet, at the same time? And who would be next?

Jonah had answers to both of these questions that evening. Kor had asked to be taken up to the bar, and had stayed there for the rest of the day. Jonah had asked Anthas to join them and the Klingon had regaled them both with stories of battles and other exploits, which had bored Cochrane but appeared to charm Anthas. Anthas appeared to have the same effect on Kor, almost matching him drink for drink and fitting in a few far-fetched stories about exploits of her own.

"My boy," he effused, talking to Jonah, "you have a fine First Officer here." He patted Anthas on the shoulder. She returned the gesture. "Tell me, is she as passionate about sex as she is about flying?"

Cochrane coloured. "I … er .. that is , we're just … I mean we haven't .. we haven't yet …"

"_Yet?_" Anthas commented.

Cochrane blushed more and gave up before he dug himself deeper.

Kor was not impressed. "Ah, you humans, so delicate in your manners. If we Klingons see something we like, we take it." He leered at the young Andorian. "If only I were a hundred years younger."

Cochrane mumbled that that didn't seem to stop some people, which Kor missed, as he had just launched into another story.

"In fact it was just over a hundred years ago that I met my first human. That was Kirk, you know."

"Kirk? You mean _James T._ Kirk?" Cochrane asked. "You knew him?"

"Of course. That's why I'm here. To visit his grave and show my respects. That is, I assume, why Ambassador Spock is here, too. I met the two of them at the same time, you know. I was Governor of Organia then and …" Cochrane's combadge signalled. 

"I'm sorry, sir," he lied. "Duty calls."

"Of course, my boy," Kor patted Anthas's knee. "If you could spare your First Officer here to keep me company, though, I would be grateful."

Cochrane smiled wanly and left.

His combadge informed him that the _Enterprise_ had yet another visitor. This one refused to state who he or she was. Cochrane instructed a group of crewmen to meet him down at the shuttle bay with phasers. The security detail left aboard the wrecked spacecraft was a minimal one. It had been felt that there would be little need for any guards. 

The shuttle bay doors closed, cutting off the rainfall. The new spaceship had landed between Spock's Vulcan shuttle and the small Klingon scout craft. As Jonah watched a ramp descended from the open airlock door. Several armed guards appeared. The _Enterprise_ crewmen raised their phasers.

One of the guards left the spacecraft and approached the group. Jonah wasn't sure of his species, either Antican or Chalnoth, he thought Chalnoth. All that really concerned him was the guard's size and the number of sharp teeth.

"Who's in charge?" the guard demanded.

"I am," Cochrane answered, trying not to look unnerved. He'd been left in charge of a minor clean-up operation, he hadn't expected to have to deal with this kind of confrontation.

"Come with me," the Chalnoth ordered.

Cochrane didn't see many alternatives. He turned to the man standing next to him. 

"Rav, if I'm not out in ten minutes, seal off the shuttle bay. Ensign Anthas will have to take over if you don't hear from me. OK?

Rav nodded. Cochrane followed the guard as he returned to the spacecraft. As they passed the other guards one of them, a Nausicaan, took his phaser from him.

The inside of the spacecraft was a revelation. The interior walls were decorated with what looked like Ancient Greek mosaics. The Chalnoth guard led Cochrane into an anterior room. Seated on a pile of cushions in the centre of the room was a middle-aged dark-haired human, approximately one metre tall. The man stood up and held out his hand for shaking in a Terran style of greeting.

Cochrane shook the proffered hand. "Petty Officer Jonah Cochrane. In command of the salvage operation of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_." He paused, anticipating the other's reply.

The other man smiled then announced "I am Alexander."

Jonah was puzzled for a while, then it sank in. "Alexander? What, _the_ Alexander? Hephaestus Holdings? That Alexander" The man was one of the richest people in the Alpha Quadrant, but was a complete recluse. Everyone speculated about what he looked like. Some rumours were that he was only a virtual person created by a syndicate, which would explain his longevity, running his commercial empire for over a hundred years. Alexander was obviously gratified by the reaction, and was amused by the confusion and surprise.

"Well, I own Hephaestus Holdings. If that makes me _the_ Alexander, then I suppose I am." Alexander reseated himself on the cushions and motioned for Cochrane to sit on a similar pile in front of him. The Chalnoth guard stood attentively in the corner.

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm visiting this planet?"

"Let me guess, to visit the grave of Captain Kirk? Am I right?"

"Yes, that's correct," it was Alexander's turn to be surprised. "How did you know?"

"Both Ambassador Spock and Dahar Master Kor are here for the same reason. I just assumed that was your reason too."

"Spock? He's here? Could you please take me to him? I have much to talk to him about."

"Of course. I'll let him know you're here and show you to his quarters."

"Thank you. One favour, however, Jonah." Jonah tensed. It could be awkward if he had to refuse a favour. He had the impression that Alexander expected his favours to be granted. "Could you arrange for the decks to be cleared _en route_? I would prefer to retain my anonymity as much as possible."

Cochrane nodded and moved to leave.

"Also would you have dinner with me this evening? And I would very much like to meet your other guest."

Jonah turned to leave, but Alexander had one more instruction.

"Oh, and bring a friend."

'When Alexander asks for a favour, it's always granted.' That was a common saying on the streets of the Rigel System, where Jonah spent his youth. It was used in the context of a wealthy or powerful person dropping a hint, which had the same effect as a regular person making an order. Jonah had never expected to actually be doing a favour for Alexander. Luckily, both Spock and Kor had had a similar desire to have dinner with Alexander, so the meal had been arranged. Jonah just hoped there wouldn't be any surprises. Having to attend diplomatic functions with high-ranking officials of the Federation and Klingon Empire _and_ a leading businessman was not something he had much experience of.

His first surprise occurred before the meal even started. He called for Anthas at her quarters and found her dressed in an ornate traditional Andorian dress, a necklace of blue anthracite around her neck. She noticed his look of amazement.

"What?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Come on, what is it?"

"I've never seen you dressed up before. It's … it's quite a change."

"You've never invited me to a high-class function before," she slipped her arm through his. "And you look very dashing in your dress uniform. You should wear a skirt more often." Jonah couldn't tell if she was being ironic or not.

The meal was in Alexander's quarters. Both Kor and Spock were already there. Alexander acted as host, and two people from his retinue, a tall male Hupyrian and a female human, served the meal. 

Jonah had been worried about etiquette, but with Kor there he could relax with regard to table manners. The Klingon tore into his food, spilt his wine, and flirted outrageously with Anthas. Alexander had a fascination with ancient Terran cultures, which Jonah shared, and Jonah found himself forgetting that the man he was talking to was one of the most powerful men in the Galaxy.

Eventually, with the meal finished and the best that Ten-Forward could supply passed around, the conversation came round to the reason why the three men were there. Kor broached the subject.

"So, my boy, what does Starfleet have to say on the subject of Captain James T. Kirk? What do they tell you about him at the Academy these days? Is he in or out?"

"They leave it up to us to decide for ourselves," Jonah tried to reply diplomatically since he knew Spock and Kirk had been close friends.

"And what have you decided?"

Jonah paused. "I know there's the whole debate about his violations of the Prime Directive. But I think that's taking him out of the context of his time. A hundred years ago there wasn't the same caution about interference. People have said that it demonstrates the arrogance of the man that he felt he could decide the fate of entire races for them, but I don't see it that way. OK, he was applying his own subjective morality, mistaking subjective opinions for existential truths. But …" Jonah looked round the table to see how the others were reacting, "… reading about his actions I get the impression that he acted out of compassion for the peoples he met, and I can't criticise him for that."

Spock replied "But, they say, do they not, Mr. Cochrane, that the road to hell is paved with good intentions? Captain Kirk and I rarely returned to those races to see the effects of our interventions. And when we do …" he broke off. "The Mirror Universe, for example. Have you read of the disastrous results of his 'compassion' there? And the …"

"Come now," Kor interrupted. "This is disloyalty. We should be celebrating the man's life, not criticising."

"But, Master Kor …" Anthas objected. "He was your enemy. The Klingons and the Federation were at war a hundred years ago. How can you be loyal to your enemy?"

Kor took a drink of his wine. "A Klingon delights in war. A Klingon seeks out battle. Without an enemy we have nothing to test ourselves against, and no-one to fight. Klingons honour their enemies even more than their allies because of this. And a worthy adversary … a Klingon lives for such moments. I only regret I never met the man in battle. A curse on the Organians for denying me the chance."

"I for one am extremely grateful for his interference" Alexander commented. "I was a slave on Platonius for years, and would be still, if Kirk and the Ambassador here had not rescued me. Where would I be if Kirk had obeyed the rules? Still performing tricks for Parmen and the others." Alexander stopped then. He became very morose, brooding on some aspect of his past, the others suspected. The five continued drinking in silence for a few minutes.

"If you will excuse me" Alexander announced, "gentlemen, lady," with a nod to Anthas. He climbed down from his chair. His two servants were immediately by his side. "I plan to visit the grave of Captain Kirk tomorrow and will leave as early as possible. If you don't mind I'd like to retire now. Stay as long as you wish."

Spock rose too. "If I may make a suggestion. Since Dahar Master Kor and I also plan to visit the grave perhaps we could all go together. We could take my shuttle."

Kor thumped the table. "An excellent suggestion, Vulcan. Mr. Alexander, what do you say?"

Alexander smiled. "It would be an honour. Shall we make it 700 hours tomorrow morning?"

The others agreed, and also made their excuses and left. Outside Alexander's quarters, Jonah breathed a sigh of relief. He had survived.

Jonah thought he was about to die. It felt like there was a warp core breach in progress inside his head. He tried to remember the night before but it was a blur. He vaguely remembered breaking in to Ten-Forward with Kor, to raid the alcohol store. Anthas had been there too. Then they had worked their way through several bottles. Jonah tried to remember if he'd done anything stupid. Bits came back. He groaned with embarrassment as he remembered becoming entranced by the light from the emergency lighting reflecting from the cerulean blue of An's skin. She did a lot of weight training and her biceps had a sculpture-like quality which, as she moved, created an interplay of shadow and light on her upper arms, left exposed by the dress she was wearing. Jonah had felt it was extremely important that he had explained this to her and Kor, and had attempted to do so at great length until he had slumped into semi-consciousness onto the bar.

And there was something else. He had been swapping James Kirk stories with Kor and he had told them how his father had been named after Kirk and why. His grandfather Zefram Cochrane had been marooned on a planetoid in the Gamma Canaris region with no-one for company except a non-corporeal being called the Companion. The Companion abducted Kirk, Spock and another guy and a Federation Commissioner called Nancy Hedford, and then merged with Nancy to form a combined being. Nancy and Zefram stayed on the planetoid and had four children, one of whom was Jonah's father. Thus Jonah had one paternal grandfather and two paternal grandmothers and Kirk was the person who had brought most of it about – at least according to the story the way Jonah's father had told it. Jonah got the impression that neither Kor nor An believed a word of it. Jonah wasn't sure why he didn't like to tell people the story normally, probably because it was so incredible, and there were no records to back it up. He just hoped he hadn't looked like an idiot. Or, if he had, that neither of the other two remembered it.

His door signalled. It opened and Anthas entered.

"You're awake then."

"Yeah, although I wish I wasn't."

Anthas went to Jonah's replicator and ordered a painkiller and deintoxicant. She handed them to him. He nodded his thanks. 

"There's someone to see you, a Captain Scott. I think he's another person come to see Kirk's grave."

"Another one? This place is getting to be a tourist attraction. Have Spock and the others left yet?" 

"They left four hours ago. It's 1100 hours now. You were supposed to see them off." She sat by his bed and regarded him with mock gravity. "You shouldn't drink so much if you can't handle it, you know." Jonah nodded his agreement. "Some news came through from Starfleet," she added. Jonah relaxed slightly, it seemed as if An was going to pretend that he hadn't said any of those things the night before. Then it clicked what she'd said.

"What news?"

"Captain Picard and Commander Riker have been cleared by the Court Martial."

"Excellent."

"That's the good news. The bad news is that the Captain's being charged by the Department of Temporal Investigations for altering the past, and for attempting to cover up the temporal anomalies he created."

"I thought he might be. His testimony had some huge holes in it. They were bound to be suspicious." Jonah sat on the edge of his bed. His head swam. He swallowed the pills and headed towards his shower.

"An?" Jonah called from the shower.

"Yes, Joe?" she stuck her head round the door of his bathroom.

"How did I get back here last night?"

"Kor and I carried you." Oh God, it was worse than he'd thought. He'd passed out in front of the Dahar Master. "Then we undressed you and put you into bed." How was this going to look on his record, being nursemaided by one of the highest ranking Klingons? "Don't worry – he likes you. He enjoyed your story about Kirk and your grandfather. He said you lie like a Ferengi, but you drink like a glob fly."

Jonah put his head in his hands and groaned. "You go and talk to this Scott guy. I'm just going to hide in here until they've all gone."

Scott was sitting impatiently in the Observation Lounge when Jonah entered. Scott's impatience dissolved when he saw Jonah.

"D'ye have a rough night, laddie?"

"Yes, I did. Too much Caldosian whisky in the bar last night."

"Caldosian? Ye have good taste, lad." Scott said approvingly.

Anthas entered behind Jonah.

"Any luck raising the others?" Scott asked her.

"No, communications are still out."

Jonah looked at her in surprise. "How long have they been out of contact?"

"We only tried reaching them after Captain Scott arrived. About half-an-hour."

Jonah thought a few minutes. A command decision. He wasn't too confident about making an accurate one, but it seemed obvious what he needed to do.

"An, get a shuttle ready. We'll go out and take a look."

"I'd like to come along with ye, if it's all right." Scott asked.

"Of course, sir."

Jonah contacted Rav, one of the security detail assigned to the salvage operation, and informed him that Jonah and Anthas would be travelling to Kirk's burial site. Rav would be in command if contact were lost with the shuttle. They would be taking the _Hawking_, which apart from the _Feynman_, was the only _Enterprise_ shuttlecraft still remaining on Veridian III. There was the Captain's yacht, of course, but since the hangar for that was at the base of the saucer, launching it would be problematic to say the least. 

In the shuttle bay three visitors' spacecraft stood next to each other, the remaining two having been joined by Scott's spacecraft – a type 6 shuttlecraft named the _Godard_, which to Jonah's surprise had an _Enterprise-D_ registration_. _Jonah, Anthas and Scott walked past them to where the _Hawking_ was waiting. In front of the _Hawking_ they were met by Alexander's bodyguards. The human female from Alexander's entourage was also with them. She seemed to be the spokesperson for the group.

"They're coming with you," she stated.

Jonah looked at the four bodyguards – the Chalnoth, the Nausicaan, and two others – both of species Jonah didn't recognise but tall, well-built and mean-looking – and didn't argue.

It was a mistake, Jonah realised afterwards, but he should have employed more air cover, just to be on the safe side. His excuse was that he didn't have any combat training, but in hindsight it should have been obvious that there was a strong possibility someone had brought down the shuttle that Kor, Spock and Alexander were travelling on.

Anthas was piloting the shuttle, of course. They were following the flight path of Spock's shuttle, trying to see where the others may have crashed. They couldn't scan for them, something seemed to be blocking their sensors.

The first intimation they had that the shuttle disappearance was due to someone attacking was when they had almost reached the mountain on which Kirk was buried. The forest cover was particularly dense in the area, but even so the wreckage of two crashed shuttles was apparent.

Anthas was just taking the _Hawking_ round for another pass when there was a flash of light from the trees. A phaser cannon. The beam hit the _Hawking_ in its port nacelle and Anthas immediately lost control.

Anthas steered the shuttle as best she could, skimming it across the tops of the trees to slow the speed as much as possible, but it still hit the ground harder than she would have liked. As the diagnostic warning lights lit up across the control console, indicating that the shuttle was too damaged to take off again, she thought ruefully that this was the third crash she'd been involved with in as many months. She knew that Jonah had built up a personal mythology that somehow he was a jinx, and that every spaceship he had ever been on had been destroyed in some way, and for a moment she considered it. First the _Tycho Brahe_, then the _Enterprise_, now the _Hawking_. One for every month she'd known him. But it was a ridiculous idea. From what she'd learnt on the journey, Anthas thought it was probably an idea that had been instilled in him since his childhood. The flight had taken close to two hours, and Scott and Jonah had been talking for most of that time. Jonah had been curious as to how Scott could have known Kirk, since the latter had been missing, presumed dead, for eighty years. Scott had described the crash into the Dyson sphere that he had survived by placing his transporter trace in a pattern buffer, and how it had taken 75 years to be rescued. That rescue had actually been by the _Enterprise, _soon after Anthas had been assigned to it, though before Jonah had arrived. He also explained how he had come to own an _Enterprise_ shuttle: it had been loaned to him by Captain Picard. 

Jonah had then shared his own experience of something similar. He had been born on his family's trader ship, and its warp core had malfunctioned soon afterwards. His mother's step-father, his Grandpa Cy, had suggested the name Jonah for him, which had started the belief that somehow the two events were connected. It had taken them 12 years at 0.94c, the highest impulse power they could manage, to reach the nearest inhabited star system, which happened to be Rigel. Time dilation effects meant that 54 years had passed by during that time. Jonah could empathise with Scott's difficulty in adjusting to the new era he had found himself in, having observed at close quarters how disconcerted his own parents had been at the changes that had occurred in the time they'd been away. 

Anthas had eavesdropped on their conversation with fascination. She was discovering so much about her friend that he'd previously been secretive about. For instance, although he was only 29, he had actually been born 71 years ago. She was also fascinated to hear two humans converse. Anthas had had a curiosity about humans and Terran culture since a young child, which had been instrumental in leading her to a career in Starfleet. They'd always seemed the strangest of the species in the Federation. Scott and Joe underlined this difference for her now, talking about the bizarre events in their lives, 75 years as a transporter trace, Dyson spheres, relativistic effects. Anthas had been inside the Dyson sphere, and it had awed her in a way nothing before or since had, yet these two humans talked about these occurrences as if they were commonplace.

Even now they appeared unconcerned.

"Sorry about that Captain," Joe was saying, "Ensign Anthas always lands like that. It saves on the retro thrusters."

Anthas turned round to explain, but saw from Joe's expression that he was joking. He was helping Scott to his feet on the sloping floor of the shuttle. Alexander's four bodyguards had already gone.

"We'd better get after them," Jonah said. "If that was phaser fire then the Ambassador and the others will need our help. An – go outside and see if you can tell which way they went. I'll get the phasers and the field packs."

Tracking the bodyguards was simple enough – they left a trail of broken branches and trodden undergrowth as they forced a way through the surrounding forest. Catching up with them would not be as easy. Scott, despite his shortcut through the 150 years since his birth, was still getting on in years, and Jonah was not as physically fit as the average Starfleet member. Anthas found herself becoming increasingly frustrated at having to wait for the two of them. Each metre they walked through the forest the pheromone spoor her antennae detected got fainter – which meant the four bodyguards were getting further and further ahead.

After an hour of walking Scott needed a rest. Joe passed round a canteen of water as the three sat in the bole of a tree.

"The _Enterprise_ should be sending out a search party soon. We're overdue for our call-in." Jonah commented. 

"Although that won't do us much good. How are they going to find us in here?" Anthas pointed out.

"True," Jonah conceded.

"Aye, and don't forget," Scott coughed – still trying to get back his breath, "don't forget that phaser cannon. If any other shuttles come after us, they'll be shot down too."

Jonah tried futilely tapping his combadge, but it was still dead. Not only were their sensors being blocked, but their communications were too. Anthas felt sorry for him. He might be a brilliant xeno-ethnologist, and a good friend, but he was out of his depth commanding anything more difficult than a salvage operation. She lifted the field pack – at least she could carry that for him – and at that moment heard the distant sound of phaser fire.

Andorian do not have ears, but their antennae are far more sensitive to pressure variations than ears could be. Although it was clear to Anthas, Scott and Jonah hadn't heard it.

"Phaser fire," she told them. "Up ahead."

She set off – outpacing Scott and Joe – until Joe yelled.

"Wait, An. I don't want you going into anything on your own."

"But the Ambassador and the others. They might need help," she set off again.

"An!" Joe called again. She turned impatiently. "Errm, that _was_ an order, An," he shrugged apologetically. "OK?"

Anthas fumed inwardly while she waited for the two humans to reach her. She had a higher rank than Jonah, it was purely the fact that the salvage task was more suited to being run by a quartermaster than a pilot that had meant he was in command. Then she relented. He was right, they should stick together. What was a human thing to do to heal any conflict? Sarcasm, probably.

"I love it when you're masterful, Joe. "

Scott and Jonah looked at each other and laughed. Anthas resumed following the bodyguards' trail through the forest. Using insults to display affection was one of the stranger things about humans, Anthas noted. Even when they were predictable they weren't understandable.

Kor scowled with irritation as he and the others climbed up through the forests around the base of the mountain. He hated to be running away from his enemies, but Spock's logic was irrefutable. They had managed to damage Spock's shuttle, and would have destroyed them if Spock hadn't rammed their spacecraft and disabled it. Now their only chance of survival was to make it to the top of the mountain where the crew of the _Enterprise_ would be able to locate them easily. Kor was not confident of the Federation people's ability to help. They weren't particularly incompetent, that Andorian girl had seemed to have her wits about her, but they were young and inexperienced, selected for their ability to salvage a wrecked spacecraft, not trained warriors. They should stand and fight, even though there was little chance of defeating a team of trained assassins, as the group who pursued them undoubtedly were. 

He looked down at the little man who walked beside him. Alexander certainly had fortitude. And pride – he had refused to allow either Kor or Spock to carry him, even though it meant their pursuers were almost certain to catch up with them. Spock had managed to fly his shuttle for several kilometres after the collision, which had given them a considerable head start, but it would still not be enough.

The trees were beginning to thin. That gave them less protection from the sun, but at least meant that any rescuers were more likely to be able to spot them from the air. They might make it after all. Kor hoped so. His head ached from too much wine the night before, his stomach rumbled from lack of food, and the Vulcan and his damn logic had been annoying him all day. This was definitely not a good day to die. 

Spock stopped and turned. 

"What is it now, Vulcan?" Kor demanded.

Spock closed his eyes in concentration, and pointed behind them.

"Over there – phasers."

Kor heard them too. Good day for it or not, it seemed his time had come.

When Anthas was a child there had been tribal clashes in her province on Andor. Andorians were known for their passion and violence, both frequently combined in the same action. The riots had increased in violence – and homes in her town had been fire-bombed. Some families had been caught in the conflagration and Anthas had for the first time wished that she had not been born an Andorian. She had not heard the screams of the people as the flames closed in, but the enhanced olfactory sense that her antennae gave her meant that she could detect the smell as they burnt. It had lasted for days, and had made her physically sick the whole time. And she could detect that same smell now, in amongst the smell of soot from the burnt forest, the smell of burnt flesh.

She motioned the two men behind her to be careful and cautiously they entered the clearing ahead.

The forest had been burnt by a high-energy weapon, probably the phaser cannon that had hit their shuttle. Nothing remained of the trees and undergrowth except a wide sector of ash and a few blackened stumps. The three entered the clearing but kept to the edge, ready to take cover if anyone appeared. The swathe narrowed to a point, where the phaser cannon still stood. Strewn around the cannon were four bodies - all human.

"These must be the people who attacked us", Anthas said, noting the phaser burns. As she spoke one of the bodies towards the front of the cannon began moving weakly and whimpering. Anthas took off her field pack and began looking for the medi-kit. She handed it to Scott, who had gently moved the man onto his back to examine his burns. 

"The phaser cannon was too close when it was fired," he said. Scott gave the man a painkiller and ran a dermal regenerator over his face and hands. "There's not much we can do for him."

Jonah had wandered away. He'd felt sickened by the scenes of death. Unlike Anthas and Scott he hadn't experienced death in anything outside a holodeck simulation. The reality was quite different. 

He'd noticed two smaller burnt areas off to one side of the cannon and had walked over to check them out. The tricorder was still in the field pack, but he guessed that if he scanned the residue of ash on the floor of the forest he'd find remains of non-human DNA, perhaps Chalnoth or Nausicaan. It looked like Alexander's bodyguards had ambushed the assassins while they'd been carrying the phaser cannon. The assassins had then returned fire with the cannon, killing the bodyguards that had attacked them. That would account for the large burnt area. The two assassins on the phaser cannon must have then been cut down from behind by the two remaining bodyguards. And then themselves been killed. That meant there were probably several assassins who had survived the ambush.

Assassins. Jonah had been using the word to describe the men who had attacked firstly Spock, Kor and Alexander, and then him, Anthas and Scott. Is that what they actually were, he wondered? And if so, who were they intending to assassinate? 

Jonah returned to Scott and Anthas. The injured man was quiet now that the painkillers had taken effect.

"An, can you work out which way the rest of them headed?" he asked. "We need to get going."

"What about him?" she indicated the man on the ground. "He needs attention. One of us should stay with him."

"No, he'll have to stay here on his own. We'll come back for him when Kor and the others are safe." He expected an argument, but Anthas lifted up the field pack and walked into the forest. She moved her head from side to side, trying to get a fix on the direction of the assassins' pheromone trail.

"This way" she pointed, and headed off into the forest.

Kor sat with Spock and Alexander in the shade of one of the boulders that were strewn down the side of the mountain. His hangover had abated, and Spock had found some field rations in his pack. Kor was beginning to find the climb, and the sharing of danger with two comrades, exhilarating. However, at this moment he needed to rest. The ascent was steeper now, and the surface was covered in scree, which was difficult to walk on. The top of the mountain was in clear sight now, an hour or more climbing would be all it would take. Kor looked down the mountainside, in the direction from which their pursuers would come.

"So Spock, do you have any idea who these people might be?" he asked.

"No, Master Kor. I doubt it is me they are pursuing. As a diplomat I tend not to make enemies, except of other diplomats, and they would not resort to violence." Spock looked along Kor's line of sight. "Perhaps it is you they seek."

"I do not think so, Spock. I believe I have outlived all of my enemies."

Spock nodded in agreement. "Klingons are very long-lived."

"Compared to humans, perhaps. But that is not what I meant. It is more that our enemies are short-lived."

Spock raised a single eyebrow in ironic appreciation of the comment. Kor saw it and thumped him on the back. 

"Hah, Spock. Whatever happens I have enjoyed our day out together. What do you say, Mr. Alexander?"

Alexander sat further down the slope from the other two, but shared their direction of view.

"I think it is probably me they are after," he mused. "Since leaving Platonius I've accrued as much power and wealth as I could. I've learnt it's the only way to be strong enough to be secure. But in so doing I've made many enemies." He looked up at a vapour trail, white against the clear blue sky. "One of ours, do you think, or one of theirs?"

Kor shrugged. "Impossible to tell. Even if it is a Federation craft, how do we know if it is our human friend and his little blue _par'machkai _or more people after your blood?"

"Kor is correct," Spock added. "We had best stay under cover until we can be certain who is in the craft." He looked uphill. "That way," he pointed to a crevice that had an overhanging rockface. "That seems the best course." Wearily the other two followed him.

"Stop!" Jonah felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him back and down. They had neared the edge of an outcrop of rock. The path ahead meant descending this rockface before continuing the ascent up the mountain. A shuttle – the _Feynman_ – had flown overhead a few moments before, but they had failed to attract its attention. Beside Jonah, Anthas lay on the ground, looking out over the valley below. Jonah lay next to her, and Scott soon joined them. Anthas pointed.

"Look there, can you see?"

Jonah couldn't make out where she was pointing. Beside him Scott drew in his breath.

"Aye lassie, I see them."

Jonah looked again. Three dark figures moving against the rocks on the other side of the valley.

"Is it them? Kor and the others?" he asked.

"No." Anthas replied. She didn't need to say more. Anthas and Scott drew their phasers.

"What?" Jonah was shocked. "We just shoot them?"

"What else do you suggest?" Anthas replied.

"I don't know, it just seems …"

"Laddie, if we don't kill them, then they will track down and kill Spock and the others. We have no choice," Scott reasoned.

Jonah nodded. He drew his own phaser and returned to looking over the edge of the rockface.

Only two of the figures were visible now, then the third appeared from behind a boulder.

"OK," Jonah whispered, despite the fact no sound would carry the distance to the other side of the valley if he spoke in a normal tone, "An you take the top one, Captain, you take the bottom, I'll take the one in the middle. On three, fire."

Jonah looked at the central figure, climbing up on the other side of the valley. All he had to do was squeeze the trigger and that person would cease to exist. Even though the figure was not much more than a dot, Jonah could identify with him. A cold impersonal fate waiting to descend on him, with no protection from it.

"Joe?" An prompted.

"OK, one, two, _three._"

Three beams of light sprang from the phasers. The lower figure vapourised in a glow of light. The upper beam hit a rock behind which the upper figure had just stepped. The middle one hurled himself to the right just before the beam hit.

Jonah, Anthas and Scott drew back. Just then the two surviving assassins returned fire. The rock along the cliff edge began to glow red from the heat. They could smell the ionised air. The smoke crisped the back of their throats as they breathed in.

"Fan out," Scott ordered. "We'll try and work round them."

The two younger Starfleet members did as they were told, Scott's authority keeping them from panicking. There was little way they could sneak up on the two men opposite, any move down the cliff-face would leave them exposed. Another volley hit the cliff-face.

Kor, Spock and Alexander heard the phaser fire. This time it was very close. The flashes seemed to be coming from further down the mountain. Spock climbed the ridge to his left and looked down. On his left and further down on the same side of the valley formed by the ridge he was on and the next ridge he could make out two figures. They were sheltering and firing at the ridge top on the other side of the valley. Kor joined Spock.

"Well, Ambassador" Kor said, "what does your logic tell you now?"

"That while our pursuers are engaged we should take the opportunity to make our escape" Spock replied, and began to descend the ridge. Alexander had reached Kor and together they followed Spock.

"So why choose now to abandon logic, Vulcan?" Kor asked.

Spock turned and raised an eyebrow quizzically. "_Chegh-chew jaj-vam jaj-kak_," he replied.

Kor grinned and prepared to follow his comrade into battle.

Jonah and Anthas had crawled as far as they could. Any further to the side, or back the way they came, would leave them exposed. Jonah was thankful that Starfleet had changed its uniforms to ones that were predominantly black, but he felt the brightly coloured epaulettes were still a bad idea in situations like this. The rock outcropping they had begun this exchange of phaser fire from was too isolated from the surrounding terrain. The two men opposite had them pinned down. The confrontation had been poorly planned. Now one of the men could keep them trapped and the other could circle round. They would need a lot of luck to get out of this one.

Kor, Spock and Alexander were nearly on the first of the assassins. He was sheltered behind a rock, firing at the cliff opposite. The surface was covered in loose shale, however, and it was impossible to approach quietly. As they neared him he heard them and spun round, Kor leaped at him, grabbing his arm, and Spock stepped in behind the man, administering the _totsu'k'hy. _The man collapsed, Kor took his phaser and went on, looking for the final assassin.

The noise of the struggle had alerted the other assassin however. As Kor approached, the man stood confronting the Klingon, his phaser pointed. The elderly Dahar Master prepared to enter _Sto-Vo-Kor_, but before the human could squeeze the trigger, a small figure leapt on him from the rock behind. It was Alexander, holding onto the assassin's head, attempting to claw at his eyes. The man twisted, trying to shake off Alexander, and quickly threw him to the ground, but as soon as he did so, he disappeared in the glow of phaser fire. 

On the ridge on the opposite side of the valley, Anthas, Scott and Jonah cautiously looked up. The phaser fire had stopped. It seemed someone had intervened.

Kor, Spock and Alexander resumed their climb up the mountain. Whoever had been firing on the assassins was probably not a threat, but the three preferred not to take any chances. Their hope was that any rescuers from the _Enterprise_ would be waiting for them on the mountain-top.

"You fought well, Spock," Kor commented.

"Thank you, as did you." Spock replied. "My ancestors were a violent aggressive people, I fear the urge to fight is still hidden deep within the Vulcan genes."

"It is a pity we have so little contact with your race. I feel you have much to teach us. That nerve grip for example."

"And you have much to teach us, too, Kor. You are correct, the Klingons and Vulcans do not know enough about each other. Everything is mediated through the humans. It is eighty years since I met with Gorkon and as far as I am aware that was the last diplomatic mission from my planet to yours." Spock thought for a moment. "Master Kor, how would you like to be the Klingon Ambassador to Vulcan? Help forge a new understanding between our races?"

Kor thought about it for a few moments. "Is there alcohol on Vulcan?"

"We can make it."

"And is your food live?"

"We can import _gagh_ for you, if you like."

"Then it's a deal" Kor decided. "'Klingon ambassador to Vulcan', I like the sound of that." He looked up towards the top of the mountain. 

"Joe. " 

Anthas's voice was very quiet. She stopped and waited for the other two to reach her. 

The three had crossed over to the other ridge, and had found the site of the fight between Kor, Spock and Alexander and the two assassins. They had found the last surviving assassin, bound and left on the mountainside. Jonah had looked through the man's pack, discarded nearby, and had discovered the small scanning and communications dampening device. He had turned it off and then communicated with the _Feynman_ that they were on their way and to wait at the mountain top. Rav had informed him that the three mourners were already there. 

Jonah, Anthas and Scott had walked for another hour, and now the mountain top was less than a hundred metres above them. It was while he was looking for the route to the top that Anthas had noticed something off to one side, and had gone to investigate. She was now calling him over to look at what she had discovered. Jonah went to look at where Anthas was pointing. A pair of legs clad in Starfleet uniform lay protruding from underneath a pile of small stones. Jonah and Anthas cleared them and looked down at the face of the corpse they had uncovered. It was unmistakably that of Captain Picard.

"How …?" Anthas began, but couldn't get any further.

"How long has he been here?" Jonah answered. "About two weeks I'd guess."

"But …?" 

"He's the Picard from our timeline."

"That's the fellow. I knew I recognised him." Scott said. "If he was missing did ye not think to look for him?"

"But he's not missing," Anthas answered. "He's at Starfleet Headquarters at the moment."

"Answering questions about this man here, I'd guess."

"But if this is Captain Picard, who's the Picard at HQ?" Anthas was still confused.

"He's from a different timeline," Jonah explained. Combat tactics weren't his strong point, but he'd shown a flair for inter-temporal causality at the Academy. "You've read Picard's deposition, right? He says that he met Soran on the bridge there," Jonah pointed to the wreckage of a bridge strewn around the cliff-face. "But in the original timeline Picard failed to beat Soran, Veridian was destroyed and we died and the Nexus hit Veridian III. So Picard and Soran entered the Nexus. Picard met Kirk and the two of them came back in time and met Soran on the bridge, thereby creating an alternative timeline, this one, where Soran _was_ defeated, we're alive, and the Nexus never hit the planet."

"And that's the charge that Picard now faces, creating an alternative timeline? The fact that he saved the Veridian System, and our lives, that doesn't matter?"

"In part. But the main problem is this. Kirk and Picard come back in time, to a time where Picard met Soran on the bridge, OK? But in his testimony there's a huge hole, one that's really obvious. Kirk and Picard from the future go back to meet Picard and Soran in the present. So there should be one Kirk, one Soran and _two_ Picards on the bridge. That's not temporal logic, it's basic arithmetic. But Picard only ever mentioned one in his testimony - himself. If you read it, it's a huge glaring error. Why didn't Picard mention his past self?"

"Because he's lying here, dead?"

"Maybe, but how did he die? Picard would already have been in trouble for altering an historical event. Having a doppelganger hanging around would have been one temporal anomaly too many. I think the main reason why the Department are after Picard now is that they think he tried to cover it up by killing the Picard from our timeline."

"That's nonsense."

"Of course it is, the Captain would never do anything like that. Maybe he doesn't even realise that there should have been a Picard already here. My guess is he probably never even saw him. But by coming back in time he must have inadvertently caused his past self to die: perhaps our Picard saw his future self, and was so surprised he slipped and fell from the cliff. The Department won't be able to prove anything, but the suspicion will stick. Perhaps we can prove it was an accident, though. If forensics get a look at this body they should be able to clear Picard." 

They took one last look at the body before moving on. This was their Captain, even more so than the man who now commanded them. That man's crew had been wiped out in his own timeline, so he had created a new one. Yet the truth didn't sink in. This dead person lying at their feet seemed unreal, unnatural even.

They restarted their trudge up the mountain. Spock, Alexander and Kor were now only a few hundred metres ahead of them.

"One other thing," Jonah added.

Anthas was not keen on hearing any more, her head was spinning enough as it was.

"In our timeline the Nexus never hit Veridian III, and Picard never entered it, so he never met Kirk. The Kirk who died here was from that other timeline, the one where we died and Veridian was destroyed, not this one. So in our timeline, Kirk's still alive and well inside the Nexus. This pilgrimage is all a bit pointless really."

"Except the man who died should be mourned whatever timeline he's from," Scott corrected.

Jonah nodded. "Of course, you're right. My apologies, sir." The three trudged on in silence.

Jonah was the first of the three to reach the top. Behind him Anthas was helping Scott make the last few metres. Rav had told him that Spock, Kor and Alexander were fine, but he was impatient to see for himself. He was surprised to see two shuttlecraft on the mountain top – the _Feynman_ had settled near the graveside, but closer to Jonah was another Federation shuttle, the _Goddard_. Like the shuttle in the _Enterprise_'s shuttle bay, it was a type 6, and according to the registration it too was assigned to the _Enterprise_. He took a few more steps closer to the group that had collected around the grave. Rav and the other _Enterprise_ crew were keeping a respectful distance, but four figures knelt directly by the grave.

Jonah could make out three of the figures. Spock faced him, and the shape of Kor and Alexander, although they had their backs to him, were unmistakable. Jonah neared the group, still deep in thought, and the group of mourners looked up at him. The man with his back to him turned. It was Scott.

Jonah was momentarily confused. This Scott must have flown in on the _Goddard_. But how could there be two Scotts? And why? Obviously one must be an impostor, here to assassinate the other mourners. Either this man attending Kirk's grave, or the man who had accompanied them in their climb up the mountain, but which? 

Jonah thought desperately, unable to act in his confusion. Then he remembered the shuttlecraft names. There was the shuttlecraft here, the _Goddard_, and the one still in the shuttlebay of the _Enterprise_, the _Godard_. Which would Starfleet be more likely to name its shuttlecraft after, rocketry pioneers or directors of French counter-cinema? Even with his luck those were the kind of odds Jonah felt confident in playing. Jonah turned round to look at where the impostor would be appearing up the side of the mountain. There he was, being helped up the last step by Anthas. Jonah headed towards the fake Captain Scott, cursing himself for not having seen through the unconvincing Scottish dialect earlier, but the impostor was already drawing a directed-energy weapon. As Jonah watched he pointed it at the group by the graveside.

Jonah turned and ran towards the group of mourners instead, trying to attract their attention, but they were reacting too slowly. Alexander was nearest to him and he pushed the man to one side. The assassin's weapon fired and pain exploded in Jonah's arm. His whole body felt as if he were burning. The sky whirled across his vision, the clear blue changing to red, and he lost consciousness.

Anthas looked down on the figure lying on the biobed. This was the second time in two months she had visited Jonah here. Last time it had been a minor neck injury, this time he had had his right arm severed.

Anthas checked the medical readouts. Her friend would recover. Alexander had already promised to provide him with whatever treatment he needed. Prosthetic limbs were easy enough to replicate, although the surgery was complex. Still Alexander was one of the wealthiest men in the quadrant, and he did owe Jonah his life.

The assassin had stolen the real Scott's shuttle and had managed to escape. He could be anywhere now, with a redesigned face and another victim to track down. Alexander guessed that he had probably been hired by a business rival, probably the Orion Syndicate, and had seized on Alexander's visit to Kirk's grave as an opportunity to assassinate him. The other seven assassins, those that had tracked Alexander up the mountain, may well have been hired by the same people. All were now dead. The man they had left by the phaser cannon had died from his injuries before they could get to him. The one to whom Spock had administered the nerve pinch had also died. A forensic team had run a toxicological scan and determined that he had most probably died from a self-administered poison.

The forensic team had actually been sent by the Department of Temporal Investigations to examine the body of the Picard from this timeline, and the cliff from which he'd fallen. The tests weren't finished, but it appeared that the surviving Picard, the one from the original timeline, would be cleared of the charge of any cover-up of temporal anomalies.

Anthas straightened Jonah's bedcover and bent to kiss him on the cheek. Perhaps he did seem to attract bad luck, but then that did mean that life around him was interesting. She couldn't wait to see what was next.


	4. The Rigel System: Inner Worlds

****

4 The Rigel System: Inner Worlds

__

IV

Major Kira Nerys looked around the room with unconcealed distaste. Of all the sectors in the quadrant, the Orion Sector was the most disreputable, and of the systems in the sector, the worst had to be Rigel. She knew that in one ancient Terran language Betelgeuse (another system in the Orion sector) meant 'the armpit', but that epithet was surely more appropriate to Rigel.

She was on Rigel IV, in the mansion of Gaila, a Ferengi merchant and cousin to Quark. Gaila's speciality was arms, but he would trade in anything as a sideline. Today he'd come into possession of one of the Orbs of the Prophets, which was why Kira had travelled to this place, to try and negotiate its purchase. This kind of black market deal repelled Kira, but the Bajoran people only had two of the nine Orbs in their possession, and one of those, the Orb of Wisdom, had only recently been returned to them by the Grand Nagus Zek. She was partly relieved that Odo was not around on Deep Space 9 when she left – he was on a mission to Unefra III with Garak – because she felt sure he would have disapproved. On the other hand, having the Constable with her would have been reassuring. At least there would have been someone within several parsecs that she didn't despise thoroughly.

Quark had arranged for Kira to be present at the auction of the Orb, due to take place the following day on stardate 48750. He had also insisted on journeying to Rigel IV at the same time (on separate starships – the Major had drawn the line at them sharing transport) no doubt to ensure he got a healthy commission for his trouble. She thought of the rape of her planet by the Cardassians, of the theft of the Orbs, and how her people were still paying for the occupation. And opportunists like Quark and Gaila were the ones the Bajorans were paying. But even Quark seemed almost decent compared to the other people with whom she shared the banqueting room.

Gaila had provided them with an evening meal, and accommodation in his large mansion. For a price, of course, Ferengi never did anything for nothing. As one of their Rules of Acquisition stated, 'there's no such thing as a free lunch'. Kira had agreed to join the others for the meal – at least it would give her an opportunity to see against whom she would be bidding. 

At the head of the table sat Gaila, Quark sat to his left, Kira to his right. To Quark's left sat Draim, reputed to be a member of the Orion Syndicate. Quark and Draim were deep in conversation. Kira knew Quark had been hoping to join the Orion Syndicate for a long time, and was probably hoping to flatter Draim into accepting his membership. Next to Draim sat Lewty, a buyer for Alexander, the owner of Hephaestus Holdings and reputed to be the wealthiest person in the sector. She guessed that he would be the person against whom she would be doing most of the bidding for the Orb, since Alexander was known as a wealthy collector of such objects. Lewty's two assistants sat opposite him, to Kira's right. The first was an Andorian female who introduced herself to Kira as Anthas. The second was a young human male named Cochrane. Cochrane's chief distinguishing characteristic was a prosthetic right arm, the silver metal hand holding a knife poised above his food. The type of prosthesis must have been an affectation. It would have been simple enough to construct one that looked natural. Kira wondered at what could have motivated him to choose to look disfigured. 

The two stood out from the other people seated at the table in that they had not chosen the meal as an opportunity for ostentatious displays of wealth. The men at the table, even Quark, wore expensive tailored evening suits, and extravagant accessories. Both Anthas and Cochrane wore simple clothing. Whether this was a statement, distancing themselves from the others, Kira didn't know. She herself wore her Bajoran militia uniform, and this _was_ a statement – she was here on official Bajoran business as the government's representative.

At the other end of the table from Gaila sat a large uncouth human called Maxill. This was probably the man Kira despised more than anyone. He was generally believed to be a drug smuggler, and was why Kira would have spent all of the gold-pressed latinum on Bajor to purchase the Orb, even if it wasn't one of the most sacred objects of her people. The Orb that Gaila possessed was the Orb of Transcendence. The Vedeks of Bajor had used the Orb to transport themselves mentally to alternative planes of existence, to open the doors of perception, and gain mystical insights. Used as part of a religious ritual it could be a profoundly life-enhancing experience. Used without discipline it could be simply an hallucinogenic. That was why Maxill was here, Quark had informed her, to purchase the Orb to provide drug-like trips for the rich brats of the Orion Sector. Nothing could have struck Major Kira as more sacrilegious, to pervert the gift of the Prophets in such a way. 

Maxill also disgusted Kira for his display of another expensive object. Seated on the floor to his left was an Orion slave girl, whom Maxill had not deigned to name. She sat cowed, and silent, wearing rags of clothing and a leash around her neck, one end of which Maxill had tied to the arm of his chair. She occasionally looked imploringly up towards her master, in response to which he fed her small pieces of food from his plate. The sight sickened Kira. She had thought that the practice of owning Orion slave girls had died out in the previous century, but evidently in the Rigel and adjacent systems the green-skinned women were still prized as particularly exotic pets.

The sight of these disreputable people all in one room brought to Kira's mind thoughts of Bareil. His loss only a few months before was still painful. Bareil was a man whose worth was greater than all of these people put together. Yet Bareil was dead, having given up his life to help the peace process between Bajor and Cardassia, while this rabble survived and prospered. Kira knew the ways of the Prophets were difficult to understand at times, but the injustice of it taxed even her faith.

Kira ate in silence, not wanting to engage anyone in conversation, certainly not either of the Ferengi that sat near her. However, the Andorian woman to her left decided she wanted to talk.

"So Major, do you believe the Dominion to be a threat to the Alpha Quadrant?" 

Kira shrugged. The others had been discussing the prospect of war for most of the evening.

"Yes I do." She looked up from her meal to look Anthas in the eyes. The clear light blue eyes looked back at her with intelligence and humour. Perhaps she had underestimated the woman. "They are powerful, and harbour a deep resentment towards all solids. They will invade. Perhaps this year, perhaps next."

"But what of your new alliance with the Cardassians?" Lewty added. "Aren't you strong enough now to stand against them?"

"Bajor and Cardassia between them aren't enough. It will take the Federation, the Klingon Empire, the Romulans and the Tholians to stand together for us to defeat them."

"Perhaps if the Dominion bring us all together, then something good could come out of the war," Cochrane suggested.

"Hah! I grew up under the Cardassian occupation. I had to watch my family and friends die, and learn to kill too. Nothing good ever comes of war," Kira answered. Cochrane nodded, conceding the point.

Gaila disagreed. "War is good for business, as the thirty-fifth Rule of Acquisition says."

"Even in the worst of times, someone turns a profit," Quark agreed.

Draim added "I'm sure Dominion rule wouldn't affect us. Everyone, even the Dominion, need people like us." He took a mouthful of wine from his goblet. Kira noted with disgust that Gaila and Lewty were nodding in agreement. These people couldn't care less about war, she realised. As long as they could make money out of it, the whole Galaxy could go up in flames as far as they were concerned. She put down her fork.

"I'm leaving," she stood up.

"But you haven't finished," Gaila objected. "Don't you like the food?"

"The food is fine – it's the company I find distasteful."

Kira headed for the sanctuary of her room. She only had to put up with them for one more day, she told herself. She would acquire the Orb and then she would leave this place as quickly as possible.

One of the visitors to Gaila's mansion had not attended the dinner. Arissa, Draim's assistant, had stayed in her room. She had been space-sick during the journey there, according to Draim, and was still not well. While the others were at dinner, Arissa entered Gaila's study. Somewhere here was the information Draim wanted. Arissa had been a net-girl, the dataport in her neck allowed men and women into her mind, where she could provide them with whatever memories or fantasies they wanted. It had been a role she had detested, so when she had met Draim a few months before, and he had offered her a job within the Orion Syndicate, using her dataport purely to access information, for more money than she'd ever seen before, she'd jumped at the chance. It seemed ideal.

The reality was quite different, however. This was only her second job for Draim, but already she was aware of the many dangers it involved. Not only could she easily get caught in the physical world, but if she also encountered any encryption lockouts she couldn't handle, the feedback loops could destroy her. However, her life on Finnea Prime had given her the talent for breaking and entering, and with any luck she could survive any malignant subroutines she ran across when hacking through any computer's security protocols. Maybe that would be enough.

In fact, the main motive behind Draim's visit to Rigel IV wasn't to acquire the Orb of Transcendence but to get Arissa access to Gaila's records. Draim's main business was extortion and blackmail. He had little interest in _objet d'art_ such as Bajoran Orbs. 

Someone had beaten her to the access port. A human male, white, quite young, long brown hair. He had a prosthetic right arm. He stooped over the control console, oblivious to her, his metal fingers tapping on the inputs. Arissa was about to withdraw, then saw what he was doing on the display. Another second and he would set off every alarm in the building and there'd be no chance of her getting the data.

"Stop!" she whispered urgently.

The man stopped what he was doing and turned in surprise.

"I … er .." he floundered for an excuse to be there, then realised that Arissa wasn't meant to be there either. Arissa leapt to the console and keyed in a cancel command, deleting the man's search.

"You were about to hit a security protocol," she told him. He looked confused. Arissa thought rapidly. The quickest way of getting rid of this moron was to find the information he needed, then get on with her search.

Arissa plugged her portable transmitter into the machine's access point. Immediately she began retrieving information directly into her brain via the connection in her neck. She bypassed the security lockouts with ease, finding her way into the datacore."What data?" she asked.

"What?" the man was still confused. Arissa was painfully aware of the slowness of normal organic communication, compared to the speed of her neural link.

"What data do you want? If I get them for you will you get out of here?"

The man nodded.

"What data?" Arissa repeated.

"Two names: Kirk Cochrane and Harriet Plasus. I just want to know what happened to them. If Gaila knows anything about them."

Arissa ran a search through Gaila's database. A couple of microseconds later she had the answer.

"One reference – stardate 40650. Kirk Cochrane was working for Hagath – a business partner of Gaila - transporting goods to Rigel II." She looked up. "That's all."

She turned away from the man, dismissing him from her thoughts, and returned her mind to exploring the datacore, downloading information into the eidetic sections of her brain. She had no idea what Draim would use the information for – that wasn't her business – she just needed to get the information and get out.

The data were downloaded, Arissa removed the portable transmitter, and looked around.The human had left. In his place a young, green-skinned girl was coldly observing her.

"You have a dataport," she stated, looking at Arissa's neck. "Good, you can help me access the Ferengi's database.

Arissa was amused. "Why should I?"

"Because otherwise I'll raise the alarm, OK?" the girl answered threateningly.

Arissa returned to the computer. It seemed that everyone wanted to dig into Gaila's background and had come here under false pretences in order to do so. Sometimes she thought she was the only person she knew who was exactly what she seemed to be, a net-girl turned hacker, and nothing else.

"What do you want to know?" she asked the green-skinned girl.

"Drug movements, anything Gaila might be involved in – especially Venus."

Arissa scanned further through the files. This information was more sensitive, she didn't want to risk looking for too long. She came up with one datum only.

"Gaila makes regular arms shipments to a group of narcotics producers on Rigel VII. They are located at …" Arissa relayed the information to the girl. "No reference to what they produce, but it's the only lead."

The green-skinned girl nodded, then smiled. "Thanks – you saved me a lot of time." She slipped out through the door into the corridor.

Arissa retrieved the transmitter from the access point, and removed the connection from the port in her neck. She left the room, her spirits lifted by what had just happened. Whatever those two were up to it could well have a damaging effect on Gaila, Draim or any of the other people connected to them. Something inside her that she hadn't recognised before told her that that, more than anything, was what she wanted.

Jonah Cochrane walked along the corridors of Gaila's mansion, returning to the dining room. He wasn't sure what to do with the information now he had it, but his first step would be to get to Rigel II. He would probably be able to persuade Lewty to travel there next. Once there he could decide what to do. After that he'd talk to Anthas about quitting their work with him. They had been working with Lewty since leaving Veridian III several weeks ago. Although assigned to the _Enterprise-E_, that starship wouldn't be commissioned until the following year, and Starfleet was very open to its people taking sabbaticals at points in their careers, to widen their experience. Some people took extended holidays, others went back to studying. Worf, Anthas had heard, had entered a monastery on Boreth. Alexander had asked them to work for him until the end of the year. Jonah had finished his convalescence after losing his arm, and had learnt to use the prosthetic replacement, and then began his role of advisor to Lewty. Lewty was Alexander's chief buyer of antiquities for his own private collection. Jonah's speciality of xeno-ethnology and his experience of trading gave him a valuable background in identifying and validating objects and works of art from around the Galaxy. Anthas's piloting skills were also extremely useful. They had enjoyed their new roles for a while, and got to see a side of life around the Alpha Quadrant they probably wouldn't have seen working for Starfleet, but they were beginning to tire of Lewty and the people with whom they had to do business.

Working in the Rigel system had also given Jonah the opportunity to do something he'd been thinking about doing more and more over recent years – finding out who'd killed his parents. He had been studying at the Academy, towards the end of his second year, when word got to him that his parents had been killed on Rigel II. He had travelled back there on compassionate leave, and had stayed with friends on Rigel II while the local police had investigated his parents' deaths. They had uncovered nothing. Jonah had returned to the Academy, but soon left. He had tried to let their deaths go, trusting the authorities to do what they could, being a responsible Federation citizen, but the lack of justice had increasingly preyed on his mind. Now seven years after their deaths he found himself working in the Rigel System, and in contact with people who might know something about what had happened to them. Now he had a name, Hagath. It was somewhere to start.

One of Gaila's flunkies interrupted his thoughts.

"Mr. Cochrane, sir," the man said, "Mr. Gaila and his other guests have retired from the dining room for some after-dinner entertainment. If you would follow me, please."

Jonah followed the servant to the large, luxuriantly-decorated room. Fabric swathed the walls, a plush carpet lay underfoot, and Gaila and his guests were all reclining on cushions scattered over the floor. Only the Orion girl and Kira were missing.

"Ah, Jonah, you're just in time for the entertainment. Yaana has just gone to change," Maxill explained.

Yaana returned, now heavily made up and wearing translucent wisps of fabric that swayed revealingly as she danced. The leash had gone, but she wore other symbols of her slavery – a metal circlet around her upper arm, and a small chain fastened to a collar round her neck. 

Orion dancers had become legendary in the previous century for the erotic sensuality of their dancing, and Jonah could see why. He glanced at Anthas a couple of times to observe her reaction, and the Andorian seemed mesmerised by Yaana, reaching up to receive one of the proffered veils that the dancer removed and handed to the audience as she gyrated in front of them. The comments by the other members of the group, were more than he could take, however. 

"Maxill," Gaila spoke without taking his eyes from the dance. I must congratulate you. You are the first non-Ferengi I have met who knows the correct way to treat women. Although I still disapprove of you allowing her to wear clothes." Quark nodded in agreement, also without taking his eyes from Yaana. 

"Don't worry, Yaana will soon correct that oversight," Maxill informed the Ferengi.

"Most reassuring," Gaila responded. "I commend you on your training of her."

"Ah, you approve of my pet, then," Maxill commented. Yaana danced on, Jonah felt sure she must be able to hear the three men discussing her as if she was an object, but she seemed oblivious to them. "I'm hoping to upgrade to another model soon," Maxill continued. "Something meatier. When I do I will be happy to sell her on to either of you – if you can afford her." 

"I assure you, Maxill I am quite capable of finding my own on the open market," Gaila replied, matching Maxill in his game of one-upmanship. He looked away from the Orion girl briefly to fix Maxill with a stare. "And I can afford any price." Quark seemed very envious of that last statement. Apparently the dancer's real value to the others in the room was not even that of a sex symbol, but only a status symbol, Jonah observed. He decided to leave.

Anthas knocked on his door later that evening.

"A present for you," she said, giving him the small piece of silk she'd taken from Yaana earlier.

"Thanks," Jonah said carefully, unsure of what to make of the gift. He looked at it closely. "Hhmm that's odd. This is Terran silk. I wonder where she got it from." He looked up at Anthas. "Did you have a good time?" he asked.

"She's an excellent dancer," Anthas answered evasively. "I've had as much as I can stand of Lewty and the others, though. How soon before we can get away from this and back to Starfleet?"

"We have a few more stops in the Rigel System, then we're back to Alexander's place on New Athens. We can get a shuttle to Starbase 327 from there, then get the first ship to Earth." Jonah calculated in his head running the piece of silk absently between his fingers. "Rigel's about 270 parsecs from Earth, so three weeks. Maybe four."

"Let's do it, I want to spend some time on Earth before we join up with the new _Enterprise_. And I've had enough of this," she indicated in the general direction of Lewty. "Or how would you like to visit Andoria?"

There was a noise in the corridor outside. Footsteps. Jonah looked briefly into the corridor, and saw Maxill and Draim entering Lewty's room. "What's Lewty up to?" he asked Anthas. She shrugged.

Jonah tried to listen for any sound coming from the adjoining room. He guessed that he wouldn't be able to hear anything, the man probably had an acoustic-dampening device since the rooms were almost certainly bugged, but Jonah couldn't suppress his curiosity.

"I don't know, Joe. I don't trust him," Anthas replied. Jonah nodded his agreement.

He could hear voices however, which became louder, then he heard a woman's scream and a thud. Jonah looked into the corridor again, and saw Maxill with Yaana at the door to Lewty's room. Maxill was holding Yaana's wrists in one hand. He struck her across her face with the other and she fell to the floor. The man looked up at Jonah with a completely expressionless face. Jonah felt cold. He started to say something, but couldn't find the words, then Maxill turned and re-entered the room.

Jonah ran to the girl, who was now sitting where she had fallen, and was now sobbing quietly.

"Are you OK?" he asked, realising how inadequate the question was.

She looked at him with fear and doubt, then saw the silk he still carried in his hand. She smiled weakly and put her fingers to the material.

"My friend gave it to me," Jonah felt at a loss for what to say. Because of her lack of response was he wasn't even sure if his universal translator was communicating properly what he was saying. "You know, the woman with the blue skin and the …", he made a sign for antennae by wiggling his fingers near the crown of his head. 

Yaana smiled, briefly, and looked past Jonah at something. Jonah turned and saw Anthas by the door to his room. She imitated his sign for antennae and made a face. Yaana laughed, and held out her hand to be helped up. Jonah took it and lifted. The woman stood in a single fluid movement that obviously hadn't required any help.

Jonah looked at her lip. It was bleeding.

"Do you want to come into my room? I'll fix your lip."

Yaana nodded and let him lead her into his room. She sat on the edge of Jonah's bed. He dabbed the piece of silk at her lip, wiping away the blood, and removing the red lipstick, to reveal the dark green skin underneath.

"I'll just clear this away, then …" he looked round. Anthas was behind him holding a dermal regenerator. He stepped back making way for her. Instead Anthas handed it to him. She seemed amused at something. "No, you do it, Joe. You seem to be doing very well on your own."

Jonah ran the regenerator over the cut. It healed immediately. Then he noticed the bruises around her wrists. He took her right hand, held it up and ran the regenerator over the marks. After a couple of passes the turquoise discolouration disappeared. Yaana meekly held her other arm up for treatment.

"You know … " Jonah started. "If there's anything we can do. Like the guy from Alnitak said," Jonah continued, referring to the only bit of Orionese culture he knew. "'Let me help,'" he quoted. Yaana looked puzzled. Jonah still wasn't sure he was getting through.

"Joe, non-interference. Remember?" Anthas reminded him gently.

The door slid open. It was Maxill.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he yelled at Yaana. He took a handful of her long green hair and began dragging her to the door. Jonah stood up.

"Now look …" he began. Maxill let go of Yaana and punched Jonah once in the stomach. He collapsed to the floor. Maxill lent over Jonah's curled up body.

"Stay away from her or I'll kill you," he warned. He pushed Yaana ahead of him through the door. And they were gone.

Anthas helped Jonah onto his bed. He'd managed to get his breath back, but was still in pain. Anthas found a hypo from the medi-kit and sprayed it into Jonah's neck. He untensed slowly and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Damn _pahtk_," he swore.

Anthas sat next to him and gently stroked his hair.

"Non-interference, Joe. Non-interference." She didn't feel convinced.

Draim and Major Kira sat expectantly in the large hall. They were the only two people left who were interested in acquiring the Orb. Lewty had left earlier that morning. He said that he had been advised by his assistant not to bid for the Orb. As a sacred object of the Bajoran people it was inappropriate for Hephaestus Holdings to try to acquire it. Kira had been surprised by the uncharacteristic display of ethics by such a large commercial organisation. Maxill had also departed, claiming pressing business elsewhere.

Gaila brought out the ark, built to house the Orb. The box itself was invaluable, and was almost exactly 6000 years old, since it had been made at the time of the discovery of the Orb of Transcendence. Gaila placed it with reverence on the table in front of him. Reverence, that was, for the value of the object, not for its religious significance.

He signalled for the security guards to step nearer, and lifted up the lid.

It was empty.

Kira was incensed. To be dragged across the Galaxy as part of some Ferengi scheme was bad enough, but to use one of the Orbs of the Prophets as the bait exploited her faith, and the gift of the Prophets. She took a step towards the Ferengi. Ignoring the guards that surrounded him, she grabbed a handful of his shirt. "Is this some sort of trick?" she demanded. But she could tell by the bewilderment on his face that Gaila had expected the Orb to be there.

Gaila recovered from his surprise and released himself from the Major's grip. 

"Guards!" he stepped away from Kira. "Hold her until her ship has been searched. And him," he indicated Draim. "Find the Orb."

Quark was not having a good day. Gaila had not only searched Kira's and Draim's ships, he had also torn Quark's apart. Since Quark's ship was hired for the trip, Quark was concerned about losing his deposit on the small shuttle. He had protested as much to Gaila, and had used it as an opportunity to remind his cousin about their bargain, that if Gaila were successful in his arms business, Gaila would give Quark a spacecraft of his own.

"Cousin Gaila," he had pleaded, as panels were removed and circuits torn from the cockpit of the shuttle. "This will cost me latinum. The Ferengi who rented this to me won't refund the deposit."

"Hah," Gaila had been derisive. "If you hired this from a Ferengi, you won't see your deposit again anyway. Have you forgotten the first Rule of Acquisition?" Gaila shook his head pityingly. "It's no wonder you're still just a bartender."

"So, I'm just a bartender. Remember that it was this bartender that lent you the money to get started. And since you're so successful, isn't it about time you fulfilled our bargain? The spacecraft, remember?"

"Of course I remember, Quark." Gaila hesitated. "But I'm afraid this business with the Orb is going to leave me a little out of pocket. However," Gaila paused again, as if considering a way through the impasse, "if someone were to find the Orb of Transcendence and return it to me, then the chances of me being able to make good on our agreement would be much higher."

Quark rolled his eyes. He had expected as much. Gaila would never give him his ship, since it meant he would always have some sort of hold over him. Still, he may as well play along, just in case.

"What do you want me to do, Gaila?"

"Maxill, the tall fat human with the green dancing girl. My sources tell me he has gone to Rigel VII. I want you to follow him. Find his spaceship and search it. If you find the Orb I want it back. Understand?" Gaila paused and thought for a moment, then added: "Oh and bring the green girl with you too. As compensation for my time."

"And what about Lewty and the others? They could have the Orb, not Maxill."

"I have people out looking for them, now." He turned to leave. "Although, of course, Quark, if you hear anything, you will be sure to let me know, won't you?"

Quark reluctantly agreed and set about repairing his ship as best he could. He was still cursing himself for ever having got involved with his cousin's business dealings when Kira arrived.

"Quark," she used his name as if it were a profanity. "If I find out you were behind this."

"Major," he started defensively. "I assure you that …"

"I'm following Lewty," Kira's guess was that it had been him who had stolen the Orb. Somehow that story about not wanting to bid against her out of respect for her religion didn't ring true – and yet she'd been naïve enough to fall for it. "I want you to find out where the other one went, that fat misogynist Maxill. One of them must have the Orb. I want you to follow him. Find his spaceship and search it. If you find the Orb I want it back. Understand?"

Quark nodded in agreement. If there were some way out of this, some way he could avoid making an enemy of either Major Kira or Cousin Gaila, he wished he could see it.

__

II

In the first to third centuries CE, around the time that the Roman Empire ruled a large proportion of Earth, terrible wars tore the peoples of the planet Vulcan apart. Those that stayed followed the teachings of Surak and turned towards logic. For the people of Vulcan it was a Time of Awakening.

Other Vulcans chose different paths. Most journeyed to other stars and settled on planets light years away. A war-like offshoot of the Vulcans, the Romulans, colonised the plant Romulus and founded a great Star Empire. The Sedrick also founded a civilisation, as did the Debrune. One group headed towards the Orion sector, colonising several star systems in the region. These people settled on Mintaka, on Alnilam and on the fifth planet of the Rigel System. Those on Mintaka reverted to a pre-industrial culture: the others flourished as traders and inter-planetary travellers.

The Vulcan descendants of Rigel V built a strong economic base throughout the sector over the following two thousand years, which remained independent of the Federation when the Federation became the dominant political entity in that region of space. Although the peoples that had created the wealth had developed a Spartan and stoical culture, the allure of wealth - and independence from the Federation - attracted a wholly different kind of person.

In the two thousand years between founding the Roman Empire and founding the United Federation of Planets, the human race had undergone its own Time of Awakening. By the 22nd century humans were, on the whole, peace-loving, enlightened, intelligent, intrinsically ethical, altruistic, agnostic and uninterested in material gain. They had renounced war, God, money, imperialism and xenophobia in more or less that chronological order. 

On the whole.

Those that were still as greedy, avaricious, salacious and just purely nasty as ever felt increasingly alienated and isolated from their society and their culture.

The Orion Sector became their new home. Business prospered, as did crime. Huge cities sprang up, but these cities were accompanied by slums. Gangsters ruled the streets, pirates dominated interplanetary space, slavers plied their wares. For the humans dispossessed by the new-found nobleness of Earth it was like coming home. Eventually the economy of the system was largely based on criminal activity, and organisations such as the Orion Syndicate held the reigns of power. 

Up until the Syndicate was formed there had still been room for the indigenous peoples in the system. On Rigel II there were turtle-like reptilians with a long and noble cultural tradition. In the 21st and 22nd centuries they had been recognised by the Federation as the true representatives of that world. But since the start of the 24th century they had been reduced to living on the marginal areas of that world. The Kaylars of Rigel VII had faired even more badly. A medieval society in the 23rd century, their culture had been displaced by the influx of 24th century immigrants, and now they were either begging on the streets of the alien cities that had been built on their planet or performing mock gladiatorial combats for the tourists.

The Federation helped where it could, but it had really only limited the effects of the corruption rather than removed it. Trade into and out of the Orion Sector was permitted, but was closely monitored. The governments of the Rigel System had made one concession to the Federation: they allowed all their planets to be screened by a transporter dampening field, preventing shipments from being beamed in or out, and allowed the stop and search of ships travelling through the systems. It was a satisfactory compromise. It wouldn't stop the supply and sale of drugs, arms, slaves, prostitutes, genetically engineered life-forms and illicit holosuite programs, but it kept it as much as possible away from the decent sectors of the Alpha Quadrant.

There was little the people who lived in the Orion Sector could do either. Governments kept some control, but had to face the fact that the vast majority of the people living there had emigrated to the Orion systems because crime, depravity and corruption were what they wanted. The first settlers, the descendants of Vulcan, responded by retreating to Rigel V and being very careful about immigration. Other planets, such as Rigel IV and, less superficially, Rigel III, managed to claw themselves back some respectability. 

For Rigel II, however, there was no hope.

Jonah Cochrane had spent his youth in the Rigel System, his parents having chosen that as a home when they knew their ship was never going to be warp-capable again. With seven inhabited planets in the one system, it seemed the best place for a small independent trader to make a living without interstellar drive. Jonah had spent seven years with his parents, travelling between Rigel II and IV, with occasional forays to the other planets, until joining the Starfleet Academy Preparatory Programme, at the Orion annexe of the Daystrom Institute on Rigel III.

Returning to Rigel II was the closest Jonah had to going home.

He had tried persuading Lewty that morning to leave before the bidding started. He had used the argument that it didn't seem ethical to bid against the Major for one of her planet's sacred objects and that there were better things to look out for on Rigel II. To Jonah's surprise, Lewty had agreed. The next stop on the itinerary was Two anyway.

Jonah, Anthas and Lewty had left on the _Hermes_ a short while later, and docked with the _Zeus_ that was parked in orbit above them. The _Zeus_ was one of Alexander's largest ships, and was gathering supplies from throughout the Orion sector, the _Hermes_ was one of its runabouts. Lewty, Anthas and Jonah's itinerary was built in around the _Zeus_'s. As the _Zeus_'s crew journeyed through the systems making the trades that created the wealth for Hephaestus Holdings, the three on the _Hermes_ travelled with them, spending that same wealth on personal items for Alexander. 

Rigel II and IV were in syzygy, more or less, which meant the trip was a short one. Within a couple of hours they were landing at the spaceport at Miramoto, the largest of the cities on Rigel II. The Hermes had a large ground car, which Anthas unloaded and insisted on driving. Jonah planned to stop with some people he knew in Miramoto, and so directed her as she drove through the streets of the city.

Anthas found some of what she saw in Miramoto reminiscent of her home back on Andoria – the noise and exuberance, poverty and wealth in juxtaposition, but what really struck her were the large ruined monuments and shells of building that stood like gargantua amongst the settlement. They had arrived at night, and the street lights lit up the colossal monoliths with an eerie glow. 

The native Rigellian culture had once been incredibly powerful. Now all that was left of them were their tombs and their monuments and a few of the turtle-like reptilians eking out a living at their feet. Huge pyramids, endless catacombs, giant statues depicting animal-headed Gods. Comparison had been drawn to similar buildings on other planets - Earth, Mars, Juhy'tigsr, Yuyune and Kurl all had similar structures - and there were probably more still to be found elsewhere. No link had been found between them, and the most plausible explanation was pure coincidence – another demonstration of Hodgkins's Law of Parallel Planet Development. However, the pyramids and monuments of Rigel II did differ from those on the other planets in their size. Some of the largest structures were close to a kilometre high, and many of the monuments stood well over 150 metres. In Miramoto the two worlds existed oblivious to each other. The people who inhabited the city carried on their lives without a glance at the statues and immense walls around which they scurried like ants.

During the day, of course, the streets would be almost deserted. Rigel was a supergiant star, which meant it was far larger and hotter than most other stars. During the day the immense blue-white sphere of Rigel filled the sky, pouring down its radiation relentlessly. Life in the open was only bearable during twilight and night-time, and even then the temperature was hotter than most inhabited worlds' maximum temperatures.

The streets of Miramoto were like a warren, but although it had been more than five years since Jonah had been there, he remembered the route precisely. Eventually, after a length of time almost as long as the time it had taken to get from Rigel IV to II, they arrived outside an ornate building, surrounded by intricately-irrigated lawns, and large security screens. For all its splendour it was poorly lit – only a single red light shone at the entrance to the grounds.

Jonah stepped from the car, and spoke into a grille by the entrance.

"Hi, it's me."

A face appeared on the viewscreen by the speaker. An elderly, maternal-looking woman. "I'm sorry we're fully booked. If you don't have a reservation I'm afraid we can't accommodate you. If you would like to make a reservation now ...?"

"Business is good then, Majj?"

"Excuse me, do I know you?"

"It's me, Jonah. Jonah Cochrane, you know, Harriet and Kirk's son."

"Joe? Joe? I thought you were ... My God you've changed. You're so much .." The woman, previously so business-like suddenly became flustered."

"It's been seven years, Majj. Seven years."

The gates swung open and Anthas edged the car forward. Jonah climbed in and they headed up the drive to the front of the house. Lewty seemed very ill at ease.

"Am I wrong Cochrane, or is this a house of … errm … ill-repute?"

"Not really Lew," Jonah replied, seeking an opportunity to annoy the man. "It's a brothel, yes, but it has an _excellent_ reputation." He and Anthas exchanged grins and entered the house. 

"Joe!" someone screamed and Jonah was immediately enveloped by the woman he had spoken to on the commlink, whose size the small screen had not done justice to. Jonah eventually prised himself away.

"Hi Majj," Jonah held the elderly woman's hand. He indicated the other two with his free hand. "This is my friend Anthas, and my boss Mr. Lewty. We're visiting Two for a couple of days and I insisted we stop in and see you while we were here."

Majj shook their hands and welcomed them, then excused herself to fix up some rooms for them.

"They seem to know you very well here, Jonah. A frequent visitor were you?" Anthas asked with feigned innocence.

"I grew up here. This was my home. Majj took me and my parents in when we had nowhere to stay. When we got here in '54 all my parents had was a clapped out old Sydney-class starship and a hold full of rubbish from assorted star systems. Majj looked after us, took care of me when my parents were off elsewhere, and helped me get into the Institute Programme on Three. I liked it here – I guess I didn't make friends easily here on Two, but there was always company here, people who didn't judge you or hassle you." Majj returned and Jonah acknowledged her with a smile "It was like having a large selection of aunts looking out for me," he continued. "And a few uncles."

"We cater for every taste here," Majj cut in. "Every species too. Although I've never met one like you before," she appraised Anthas. "You're Andorian aren't you?" She looked at Jonah. "She's very beautiful, Joe. You are lucky." She looked disapprovingly at Anthas's crew cut and her flight suit. "Although you should do something about your hair, dear. And your clothes."

"An's just a friend, Majj," Joe protested.

"That's what I meant, Joe. You're still lucky to have such lovely friend. I'll put you both in the same room, though. You never know, eh?" she winked at the two of them. Jonah shook his head.

"Majj, you're …" he groped for the right descriptor. 

"I think the word you're looking for is 'incorrigible,'" Majj suggested, as she led the way to their rooms.

Kira had tracked the ion wake of the _Zeus_ to Rigel II and was now hailing the security services. The government of Rigel II had been having a difficult time with the Federation in recent weeks. A consignment of arms, intended for the Maquis, had been intercepted near the Badlands. The arms had been traced back to Rigel II. Cut-backs in aid and trade sanctions had been carried out, and the negotiations over lifting the transporter dampening field around the planet had been put on hold. Although bad news for Two, this was good news for Kira since it meant that the Governor of Rigel II would be very keen to win his way back into the Federation's good books. 

The Governor himself appeared on the viewscreen.

"Governor Tarkwin," the man nodded. "At your service. How may we be of help to the Federation?"

"Good day, Governor. I am Major Kira Nerys of the Bajoran Militia. I'm in pursuit of a suspect in the theft of a Bajoran religious artefact, and would be grateful for any help you may be able to provide in the matter."

"Ah," the Governor paused. Kira jumped in before he could say more.

"I am also the Bajoran liaison to Starfleet, and any favourable report I have concerning Rigel II will therefore go directly to the Federation."

"Please understand, Major," an element of pleading crept into Tarkwin's voice, "that Two is committed to upholding interstellar law irrespective of the demands of the Federation. We will be only too happy to help, whether Starfleet learns of our assistance or not." It was a lie, but Kira did not want an argument, so let it go. To a large extent her sympathies were with the Governor. The long-term economic future of the planet depended on maintaining good relationships with the Federation, which meant meeting their exacting standards. Yet clamping down on the illegal activities of its citizens, particularly against cartels as powerful as the Orion Syndicate was practically impossible with the limited resources that the government had. The whole system was anarchic, with a thin veneer of authority, and sometimes the veneer was so thin the holes showed. 

And anyone who supplied arms to the Maquis was to be applauded as far as Kira was concerned.

"I'm glad to hear it, Governor," Kira replied. "I need some information about a shuttle that would have landed in the last three hours. It's the _Hermes_, registered to Hephaestus Holdings. If you could trace the movements of anyone who may have disembarked from the shuttle, and locate them for me, I would be very grateful."

"Of course, Major," Tarkwin assured her. "I'll oversee the task personally."

A few minutes later the Governor contacted her. "The Hermes landed at Miramoto Spaceport two hours ago. I'll give you the landing co-ordinates, and one of our security operatives will meet you there."

Governor Tarkwin was true to his word. As Major Kira disembarked from her runabout, someone was there to meet her.

"Garth," he grunted. Kira wasn't sure if he was announcing his name or had some sort of gastro-intestinal dysfunction. She gambled on it being a name.

"Major Kira Nerys." She got straight to the point: "You've located the crew of the _Hermes_?"

"Picked up their ground car on a surveillance camera," Garth replied. "I'll take you."

"Not yet," Kira responded. "First I want to search their ship."

The search proved fruitless, as Kira knew it would. She and Garth went through the deserted ship, moving everything that could be moved, but she found nothing. By midnight she decided it was time to track down Lewty and his two assistants.

Garth had a small sports car, which he drove at high speed through the traffic. Kira was relieved when they reached their destination, a large house in its own grounds.

"Madam Majj's," Garth announced.

Kira felt she should have guessed. The people she was pursuing land on a planet and the first place they head towards is a brothel. Typical degenerates. Garth spoke into the grille.

"Open up, it's the police."

Kira was astonished. "You just let them know we're coming?"

"Sure, they'll co-operate with us. If they don't we just revoke their licence."

"You licence this type of place?"

Garth was bewildered. "Of course," he answered. "If we didn't licence them, how would we keep tabs on them?" He shook his head at the stupidity of off-worlders. Kira began to wonder what kind of planet she'd landed on.

The gates opened and Kira and Garth entered. At the reception desk Majj confronted them. 

"Officer Garth, what brings you here?"

He ignored her and pointed the computer terminal out to Kira. She tapped through the database and read out two room numbers to Garth. Majj remembered who was in those rooms.

"Joe? What's Joe done?"

"The rooms. Now. Don't try and raise the alarm," Garth instructed Majj. Majj obeyed, leading them up the stairs, protesting that she was sure it must be some mistake and that Joe wouldn't do anything wrong. 

At the doors to the two rooms Kira motioned for Garth to take one door, while she took the other. She drew her disrupter and entered the room.

Two people slept in the bed. As she turned on the light they stirred and looked up at her.

"Major … Kira?" the male – Cochrane – asked sleepily.

Kira began to doubt her suspicions about these two. They didn't seem to have the behaviour of Syndicate Operatives, particularly allowing themselves to be caught like this, and then adopting the role of innocent bewilderment immediately on waking. Perhaps she had made a mistake. Or perhaps they were very good at their roles.

Anthas was waking now. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. "Joe, what is it?"

"We have a visitor."

The Andorian sat up. "Hi, Visitor," she said. "What can we do for you?"

"The Orb," Kira answered. "I want it back."

"The Orb?" Cochrane answered, still confused. "We don't have it. I thought Gaila did. Has it been stolen?"

"Don't play games with me," Kira snapped. "Get dressed, I'm taking you with me."

The human and Andorian climbed out of the bed and began picking up the clothing they had dropped on the floor. Kira stepped to the door and called out to Garth.

"Two of them are here, have you got the other one?"

Garth entered the room, his eyes following Anthas as she completed dressing. 

"He got away."

"What? How could you be so incompetent?" Kira was incensed.

Garth didn't seem bothered. "I'll go outside and look for him." He disappeared.

"O.K., let's go," Kira motioned the two of them towards the door.

Majj was outside, almost hysterical with concern.

"Joe, what does she want? Why are the police after you?"

"Relax, Majj," Joe tried to calm her. "It's just a misunderstanding. They think I've stolen something that I haven't. I'll sort it out."

"I don't trust that Garth," Majj continued, accompanying Joe down the stairs, apparently oblivious to the Bajoran woman walking behind them with a disrupter pointing at them. "He took a bribe from that other fellow to let him go, and right now he's contacting some other people to come and get you. And I don't think it's the police."

Majj was right. As the four of them left the building they were met by Garth and a group of men they hadn't seen before – all wearing black, all carrying directed energy weapons – and all the weapons were directed at Kira, Anthas and Jonah.

"Garth, you scum, who are you working for?" Kira demanded.

"Like everyone else on Rigel II, I work for whoever pays me," Garth answered, and looked meaningfully at the man standing next to him. The man took out a bundle of latinum slips and counted out ten for Garth. 

"You're sure these are the people Hagath was after?" the man in black asked the policeman.

"A Bajoran, a human and an Andorian all together, I think there's a good chance," Garth replied. "Besides, she thinks they have the Orb," he indicated Kira.

"OK, cuff them and hood them," someone behind the group of men ordered.

Anthas felt hands pull her arms behind her, then everything went black.

Anthas's hood was removed, which made little difference to her, since the room she was in was just as dark. She heard movement around her - someone walking away - and a door closing. "Joe?" she called tentatively into the dark. "Are you there?"

"I'm here, wherever here is. I guess we ran into someone else who wants to know where the Orb is."

"What I don't understand," Anthas spoke into the darkness of the room, "is why they don't just scan for the Orb and find it that way."

"Because it won't show up on any scans – it's not made of matter in the usual sense," Jonah attempted to explain, welcoming something to talk about and lessen his fear of what was to happen to them. "As far as anyone can make out the Orbs are more like … extrusions into lower dimensions of higher dimensional objects. The Bajoran people refer to them as the Tears of the Prophets, but they're not so much tears as tears. Each one is actually a hole into another Universe."

"How come you know so much about them?" Anthas asked. 

"They've always fascinated me. The whole Bajoran culture does." Somewhere in the darkness he heard someone stir. Jonah guessed it was the Bajoran Major. "The Orb of Transcendence is particularly amazing. The Vedeks of Bajor used the Orb to take them on vision quests, to understand more about themselves, to dig away at their essential being. I though it might be interesting to have a go myself."

"I was on Bajor a couple of years ago," Anthas interjected. "The _Enterprise_ was transferring some personnel to Deep Space Nine, which is near there. I took the opportunity for some planet leave. It's beautiful there. You should go, some time," she squeezed his hand.

"Great idea," Jonah said gloomily. "There's just one slight problem." He rattled his cuffs. "It doesn't seem like we're going anywhere." 

The room exploded into light. After the darkness of the room Jonah and Anthas were blinded by it. Jonah tentatively opened his eyes. Standing before them were three of the men in black from the night before, all carrying phaser rifles. With them was a man with close-cropped grey hair and piercing cold eyes and behind him stood a tall pale-skinned woman with protruding frontal lobes. Jonah heard a noise and turned his head. Lying next to him was Kira. She seemed to be coming round. She groggily sat up, then glared at the men who held them prisoner.

I hope you've been made to feel comfortable," the man with piercing cold eyes said. Something about his tone managed to be both charming and chilling at the same time. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Hagath."

"Hagath?" Jonah responded with surprise.

Hagath looked suspiciously at Jonah.

"I see my reputation precedes me." Hagath lent down and met Jonah's gaze at close range. Jonah found the menace in that look difficult to withstand.

"I … I found your name in Gaila's records."

"Indeed? And why were you looking there?"

"I was tying to find information on my parents, Kirk Cochrane and Harriet Plasus – remember, they used to work for you?"

Hagath couldn't conceal his surprise at hearing the names. He straightened and took a step back, regarding Jonah with amusement.

"Like father like son, hhmm? In too far over his head and getting his fingers burnt. If that's not mixing my metaphors." He saw the look of anger fill Jonah's face. "Oh, don't get me wrong, I had nothing to do with their deaths. I valued them too much as employees."

Jonah watched the man warily. It was impossible to tell if he was lying or not.

"Then who did kill them?"

Hagath ignored him, turning instead to the woman who stood behind him.

"Talura! This one first"

The woman knelt beside Jonah, staring intently at him. Jonah started to hear a faint buzzing. Then he began to feel nauseous, and a faint prickling in his head, as if thousands of ants were crawling around in his mind. The pressure became greater, then painful. He squeezed his eyes shut, then yelled once, more from fear of what was happening than from the pain. Suddenly the prickling stopped. Jonah opened his eyes, swaying from the nausea he still felt.

Talura looked up at Hagath, then reported to him in clipped terse sentences. "Nothing. He doesn't know where the Orb is. He works for Alexander, but he's actually Starfleet – on sabbatical. He suspects Alexander is involved in the theft, but isn't sure. He distrusts Lewty – the third person in his party." Talura looked once more at Jonah. "It would be in your interest to tell him who killed his parents."

Jonah was confused, thinking that Talura was talking to him, but Hagath answered her. 

"Very well. Check on the others." Talura knelt next to Anthas and ran her hand through the Andorian woman's hair, staring at her intently. Jonah saw Anthas's eyes glaze over. Then looked up at Hagath as the man spoke his name.

"Cochrane. A name. Burn." Hagath looked across at Talura. She had finished with Anthas and had moved on to Kira. "I'm not sure why Talura thinks you should know this." Hagath regarded the younger man carefully. "What will you do now? Track your parents' killer down and destroy him?"

Jonah didn't answer.

"Hah, excellent," Hagath smiled. "How entertaining." He directed his attention to Talura. She shook her head. Hagath smiled at his three prisoners.

"I know it was terribly ungracious of me as a host to have a telepath read you, but I'm afraid I had to know what has happened to the Orb. Since Talura assures me you know nothing I will let you go. I would very much like to meet this Lewty person, however. It is quite vexing that our friend Garth allowed him to escape." Hagath turned to the nearest of the men in black. "Please express our personal dissatisfaction to the gentleman at the earliest opportunity." The man nodded and left.

"I hold out little hope that you would actually return the Orb to me if you find it," Hagath continued. "However, there is always the consolation that in attempting to posses it yourself, you may well cause some considerable distress to whoever did steal it," Hagath smiled at Jonah, which sent a chill down his spine. Hagath turned to the two remaining men in black. "Take them to the spaceport. Make sure they leave."

Kira, Anthas and Jonah were driven to the spaceport through the sunblasted streets of Miramoto. There they discovered that the _Hermes_ had gone, as Jonah and Anthas had guessed it would have. Lewty had ditched them. Kira led them to her ship, which was in the adjoining berth. The Danube class runabout sprang to life as it detected the signal from Kira's combadge. 

"_U.S.S. Anduin_?" Jonah noted the name of the runabout.

"All the runabouts assigned to DS9 are named after Earth rivers," Kira explained.

"Haven't heard of the Anduin before." Jonah called to Anthas, who had run ahead of them into the ship. "Hey, An, you know all about Earth. Ever heard of the river Anduin?" but the Andorian was oblivious to the question. She had powered up the ship and was running her hands over the console.

"What's the matter with her?" Kira asked.

"Oh, she's in love," Jonah explained. "Anthas always liked the Danube class runabouts. Small enough to feel some connection with them, large enough that you can actually get someplace in them. She had one on the _Enterprise_, the _Tycho Brahe_."

"What happened to it?"

"Oh, she crashed it," Jonah admitted off-handedly and went to sit next to the pilot. Kira took a seat as well. She planned to go next to Rigel VII, to check up on Quark and his search for Maxill. She looked uneasily at the pilot, wondering what the odds were of surviving the trip.


	5. The Rigel System: Outer Worlds

****

5 The Rigel System: Outer Worlds

__

VII

Quark landed his spacecraft less than ten metres from the one already nestling amongst the long grass. The green plain stretched out in all directions. Most people would have found the scenery beautiful, and tranquil. Quark saw only waste of good cropland. This could have been making money, but instead had been left derelict. 

The other spacecraft was the _Pandora, _Maxill's ship. It had taken Quark an entire day to track it down. Just in time. Kira had contacted him and told him that she was on her way. He wouldn't have wanted to have had to explain to her in person why he hadn't yet found anything. He'd also contacted his cousin Gaila, just to keep him happy too. 

It took Quark only a few minutes to break into the _Pandora_. Even as he began searching he felt that he would not find the Orb there. He was right. Even after an hour of looking, during which he'd looked behind every panel and every ventilation grille, he hadn't found any Orb. He was just about to give up, and get back to his ship, when he heard a voice from behind him. He backed out from underneath the storage cupboards where he'd become distracted looking through some of Maxill's more unsavoury possessions, and turned round.

Maxill was pointing a phaser rifle at him.

"Any good reason why I shouldn't just shoot you now?" he asked.

Quark thought for a moment. 

"You might want to keep me around for a while, just to humiliate me and subject me to painful interrogation."

"Good point," Maxill replied and motioned Quark to leave by pointing his phaser rifle towards the door of the spaceship. At the door Maxill told Quark to wait. He rejoined Quark at the exit after a few moments.

"Move," he ordered.

"Where are we going?" Quark asked.

"Shut up and walk," was Maxill's only explanation.

There should be a rule of acquisition covering situations like this, Quark observed as they trudged through the grassland, about trying to extricate yourself from trouble and ending up in more of it. He occupied himself during the walk trying to invent one.

"How much do you trust this Quark?" Anthas asked Kira. Kira thought for a moment, looking out at the grassland around them. Quark had given them the co-ordinates to Maxill's ship and they had found Quark's next to it. Both were unoccupied. They also checked both ships for the Orb. It was not on either of them.

"A good question," Kira replied. "I don't really know. I've known him two-and-a-half years and I still really haven't worked him out. He's unscrupulous, thieving, lascivious, well – he's a Ferengi – but sometimes he can surprise you by doing something decent."

"And now?" Anthas asked.

"He might exploit us, if there were latinum to be made, or even steal from us, but I don't think he'd deliberately lead us into danger." Kira considered the landscape. "What do you know of Rigel VII?"

The human, Cochrane, answered. "Up until the last century it was a fairly primitive planet, run by a warrior caste called the Kaylars. In this century, though, there's been an influx of more technologically advanced people from the rest of the system. About ten years ago there was a world-wide computer systems crash which devastated the planet economically. It hasn't really recovered."

"Is it safe?" Kira cut to the essentials.

Jonah shrugged. "As far as I know."

"So maybe we should contact that settlement we saw nearby and see if they can help us track down Maxill and Quark," Anthas suggested.

Their attempts at contacting the settlement were answered quickly. The communications device on the runabout picked up a clear strong signal from the Rigellians. The spokesperson for the settlement offered them a hospitable welcome. However, when Kira offered to fly to the settlement he was less enthusiastic.

"I'm afraid we have a no-fly policy in operation, Major," he informed them. "No-one may fly within ten kilometres of the fortress. Inconvenient, I'm afraid, but we are very security-conscious. However, we could send a land transport to collect you."

Kira accepted the offer, and signed off. Within minutes they heard the roar of engines, which signalled the arrival of the ground transport. The three stepped out of the _Anduin_, and were greeted by a row of men with phaser rifles.

Kira looked at Jonah.

"'As far as you know', Jonah? And how far was that?" she said accusingly.

The land transport sped them towards a large fortress. It had been magnificent but was now ruined, the once sturdy walls and soaring towers now partly collapsed and inexpertly shored up. A portcullis lifted as they approached and the transport stopped in the courtyard, next to another ground transport. The three disembarked, still at gunpoint, and were led past the second car, which Anthas recognised as Lewty's. What was he doing here? she wondered. A large container, roughly two metres by one metre by one metre was being unloaded from Lewty's car. Anthas didn't recognise it, so guessed that Lewty must have recently acquired it. When the men had finished moving the container, which they simply dumped next to the ground car, they re-entered the car. Anthas stopped to take a look at what they were doing. They then seemed to be looking for something, taking the interior of the car apart. One of the men behind her pushed her roughly to make her start walking again. She rejoined the other two prisoners.

Anthas, Kira and Jonah were ordered down a flight of stone steps to a heavy wooden door. One of the Rigellians opened it and motioned them inside. Evidently this was to be their prison. The room was dark and damp. But in the darkness Anthas could make out two figures. One was Lewty, the other was Yaana.

"Lewty! Thanks for running out on us back on Two, you _pahtk_," Anthas snarled.

Kira looked across at Anthas. "Was this the person you were with on Rigel II? The one you said may have stolen the Orb?"

Anthas nodded.

"So did you?" Kira took a step towards Lewty and gripped his shirt. "Did you take it?"

Lewty pushed the Major away.

"Get off me," he growled, and backed away.

"So what's he doing here?" Kira asked Anthas. The Andorian woman shrugged. It was Yaana who answered.

"Buying drugs, what else would someone want to come here for?"

The other four looked up at her astounded. They had never heard her speak before, in fact she had given the impression that she only vaguely understood what was being said to her.

Yaana continued, making the most of the impact that she knew the sudden dropping of her role had made.

"I'd guess that the Rigellians are looking for the Orb too. According to Gaila's records these people and he are accomplices. He supplies them with arms, they supply him with drugs. That's how I found these people, they were in Gaila's database. By coincidence they must have been the same people Lewty was dealing with. He had just loaded that container full of narcotics onto his car when the Rigellians were alerted that Lewty had stolen something from Gaila." Yaana looked at Lewty with contempt. "Someone working for Gaila must have traced Lewty here and then contacted Gaila. I'm just not sure who."

Kira and Jonah looked at each other. The person who had contacted Gaila must have been Quark. They wondered where he was now. 

After a couple of hours of walking Quark and Maxill neared the settlement. Quark had recognised some of the plants that they walked past – tobacco, marijuana, the orchids from which communion was derived – which confirmed his suspicion about the nature of the business Maxill's acquaintances were involved in. As they approached the entrance to the fortress a dozen humans exited. They all carried phaser rifles. They barred the way then remained motionless, watching the two approaching with expressionless faces.

"Hey, it's me," Maxill called to them. "I've just been back to my ship. I caught this Ferengi snooping around."

The two came to a stop a few metres in front of the cartel people. Maxill stood beside Quark and motioned him towards the fortress, waving his rifle menacingly. Quark didn't move.

"Come on, Ferengi," Maxill ordered. "Move it."

Quark indicated with his eyes that Maxill should look ahead towards the cartel people. "Ah, hu-man, there's something you should know," was all he said.

Maxill looked at his business associates. Their rifles were pointing at him.

The six captives in the dungeon had been sitting in silence for hours. There had been a brief but heated argument between Maxill and Yaana when he had been pushed into the room with them. Jonah had made a few brief attempts at making conversation with the young Orion, but when he was met with no response from her, and a glowering look from Maxill he gave up. Instead he began to think about Lewty's connection to the drug growers. The only place Lewty could get enough money to pay for them must be from Alexander. Jonah wondered how much of Alexander's wealth was based on supplying drugs. If that container were full – how much would that much cocaine, communion, Venus or tobacco be worth on the black market? He had no idea. A sizeable fortune, he'd guess. Maybe the whole trip was just a cover for this one purchase. Lewty would return to the _Zeus_, the drugs would be hidden amongst all the other purchases, and who would search one of Alexander's ships anyway, unless they had a very strong case for suspecting him? No-one would take the chance of making such a powerful enemy.

Also what were Maxill and Yaana doing here – probably the same thing. They had been looking for someone to supply them with drugs, but had made the mistake of choosing the group of suppliers who were partners of Gaila. They hadn't counted on Quark following them and exposing them as the people who were suspected of stealing the Orb.

The darkness of the room was unchanging. However his prosthetic arm had an in-built timepiece, which he took to watching morosely. It marked the time as 17:00 local when the door opened and Quark entered. He pointed at Kira. 

"This one," he said to the guard standing behind him.

"What about the two we brought in with her?" the guard asked.

Quark considered for a moment. "Bring them too."

The three were led back up the steps, and then further up the staircase. They were climbing one of the towers of the fortress. At the top Quark and the guard stopped. 

"In here," Quark ordered. The three prisoners stepped inside. The guard moved to follow. "Not you," Quark told him. "Gaila wants me to question them in private."

"But …" the guard objected.

"I'll take the phaser rifle for protection," Quark held out his hand for it. "I'll be quite safe."

The guard handed the rifle over reluctantly, and Quark entered the room.

"Quark," Kira advanced on him. Quark waved the rifle defensively.

"Major – it wasn't my fault. I had nothing to do with you being captured."

"And what are you going to do to get us out of here?"

"I'm working on something. Just give me time."

Anthas was standing at the window, looking down at the courtyard below. Some activity had started. Three large ground cars arrived, and the people from the settlement began unloading containers from them. They were assisted by the people who had driven the ground cars. While Kira and Quark argued, Anthas continued to watch what was happening below. She counted six visitors in all, who seemed to be in earnest negotiation with the settlement people. Anthas beckoned Jonah over to her and pointed out of the window.

"Who are these new lot, Joe?" she asked.

"They look like traders from Rigel V. See the cloaks and the fur-lined boots? They look a lot like Vulcans – pointed ears and everything." Jonah turned to Quark. "Any idea why traders from Rigel V would be here?" he asked him.

Quark shrugged; "The people here need supplies, just like anyone else. This lot signalled a few hours ago and asked if they could come here and trade. They're bringing replicators and a power supply, I think."

Jonah and Anthas watched as the machinery was unloaded. One of the female traders caught Jonah's eye in particular. He pointed her out to Anthas.

"An, that Rigellian trader there?" Anthas looked down to the courtyard. "Recognise her?"

"It's T'Pris!" Anthas exclaimed. "What's she doing here?"

Jonah called Quark and Kira over to the window. The next time T'Pris appeared he pointed her out to the other two.

"See the woman there? Black Vulcan, quite petite. She's just pulled her hood down," Jonah said excitedly. The figure below had removed her hood. She looked up, seemingly directly at them. It was unmistakably T'Pris. "We know her from the _Enterprise_." Jonah looked at Quark. "You've got to get word to her. Tell her that we're here." 

Kira was unsure. "Are you certain? If the people here find out you're with the Federation they'll have you killed."

Anthas grinned. "Oh, we're certain it's her. We were … very close."

Quark looked at Kira questioningly. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. There was a knock at the door.

"I'll get the guard to take you back to the dungeon and then contact this … T'Pris," Quark promised, thinking once more of the new Rule of Acquisition he had decided to invent.

T'Pris watched the Ferengi warily as he approached the tents that she and her colleagues were constructing in the courtyard. Although she had been training with Starfleet Intelligence for several months this was her first assignment in the field, and she had decided it would be logical to practice extreme caution. S.I. wanted to recruit a team of Vulcans for this mission, they needed people who could pose as traders from Rigel V, and since most of the _Enterprise_ crew were on sabbatical, they had begun by recruiting Vulcans from that ship. 

T'Pris had done well in her Intelligence training, and had been made 2-i-c on the mission, but that still hadn't prepared her for the constant watchfulness that was required to maintain her cover, nor the constant threat of exposure. As her immediate subordinate she had selected Taurik, another Vulcan ensign who had served on board the _Enterprise_. Although no more than acquaintances before enlisting with S.I., the two had tended to gravitate towards each other during their time in Starfleet Intelligence, partly because of their shared background on the _Enterprise_, but also because shortly before starting their Intelligence training both had lost someone close to them. Both T'Pris's favourite uncle and Taurik's twin brother had been serving on the _U.S.S. Voyager_ when it had gone missing in the Badlands near the Cardassian border. Their loss had hit both of them harder than they could admit to, being Vulcans. 

The group of Vulcans had been placed on standby for the last weeks in the asteroid belt between Rigel VI and VII, the belt that divided the Rigel System into two halves. They were waiting for a signal from a Starfleet Intelligence operative who had been working in the field for nearly three years, trying to trace the drug supply routes within the system. The operative was near to making a breakthrough, but had requested an extraction team to get him out. T'Pris, Taurik and their comrades weren't sure from which half of the system the call would come, but they were ready to respond at a moment's notice. 

They had picked up Commander Roberts's homing beacon only 3.7 hours before, and had made good time in finding his ship. Now, though, they were unable to locate him. This being the nearest settlement made it the most logical place to begin a search. They had visited the settlement and carried out their trade transactions, but had observed nothing suspicious throughout all of this. The settlement people appeared to be nothing other than a rural community and allowed them to set up camp in their grounds. Rather than begin the search for Roberts that night they had decided to wait until morning and were settling down to sleep when Quark walked over to their campsite. 

Taurik was on duty with T'Pris and he stopped the Ferengi before he reached the group. The Ferengi side-stepped Taurik and approached T'Pris.

"I need to speak to you, in private," he looked warily from side-to-side and spoke low so as not to be overheard.

T'Pris hesitated. What could the Ferengi want? Could this be a trap? The Ferengi became impatient. He leant forward and whispered in her ear: "T'Pris."

T'Pris required all of her Starfleet Intelligence training, and her _arie'mnu_ training, to avoid panicking. Her cover had been blown. How did this man know her name? She followed him as he beckoned her out of the campsite. Taurik watched them move away.

"Who are you?" T'Pris demanded.

"My name's Quark. I'm working with Major Kira Nerys of the Bajoran Militia." The man didn't appear to be lying, thought T'Pris, but … the Bajoran Militia? What would they be doing here?

"I was told by two of your colleagues from the _Enterprise_, Jonah and Anthas, to contact you," Quark continued. T'Pris again struggled to retain her equilibrium. Joe and An, here! She thought she'd not see them again for months, if ever.

"Come with me," T'Pris commanded Quark. "We have to see Lieutenant-Commander Sevrek.

Sevrek listened to T'Pris attentively as she introduced the Ferengi, and explained why he was there.

"Fascinating," was his only response at first. "The Bajoran Militia and Starfleet here. I wonder if it's a coincidence." He looked at T'Pris. "You're sure we can trust this person?" he asked.

"I don't know, but if my friends are being held prisoner then I must try and help them," she replied.

"Your loyalty is commendable – if perhaps emotionally expressed." Sevrek appeared to come to a decision. "Very well then Quark. Take us to where they are being held."

"I'll show you the way," Quark answered, "but as far as the rescue itself is concerned, you're on your own."

"Of course," Sevrek nodded. "You will want to preserve your cover, so you can stay in the field even after the rescue."

Quark looked bewildered momentarily, then recovered. "Oh, yes, maintain my cover. Of course."

Surreptitiously, so as not to arouse the suspicion of any potential observers, Sevrek informed the other Vulcans of what was being planned. He then indicated to Quark that he should return to the dungeon. as he did so the rest followed.

Maxill heard phaser fire from outside the door to the cell. He motioned to Yaana to cover the door just as it burst open. The Rigel Fivean traders had invaded the Rigel Sevenian's dungeon. His mind began to race – attempting to work out what was happening. Then he saw Sevrek and he relaxed. It was his extraction team. They must have responded to the homing beacon he had set in the _Pandora_, although how they had managed to track him to this place was something he didn't understand. Now at last he could drop the Maxill cover and become Commander Roberts again. Sevrek looked around at the prisoners then headed towards him.

"Sevrek!" Roberts exclaimed. "How did you find me?"

Sevrek, staying true to his Vulcan demeanour did not give in to surprise. "Hello Commander Roberts. I must say we were not expecting to find you here."

"Then what are you doing here?" Roberts was confused. 

"We had information that Starfleet personnel were here," Sevrek continued. Roberts looked around uneasily, trying to identify which people Sevrek meant. It wasn't difficult. The other Vulcans in Sevrek's team were now following him into the room and one of them ran and embraced the human and Andorian in a most non-Vulcan manner. "The Ferengi told us," Sevrek continued. "He's working for the Bajoran militia." Roberts took another look at the Bajoran major, who was now being introduced to the Vulcan woman. His sense of unease increased. There seemed to be things going on here that he didn't understand; connections that shouldn't be possible. Was there some group that had infiltrated not only Hephaestus Holdings, but also Sevrek's team and Gaila's family? And what was their connection with the Bajorans? Roberts's mind turned round all the possibilities. Normally adept at playing these games of subterfuge, he began to feel himself outclassed. A knot began to form in his stomach. Which began to tighten as he watched Yaana join the group and be introduced to the young Vulcan woman.

Jonah was similarly confused. He had been surprised to see T'Pris in the courtyard below, and wondered what she was doing here. He had just finished introducing T'Pris to Major Kira when T'Pris noticed Yaana watching them.

"Lieutenant Yaana?" T'Pris enquired. The Orion girl came over to them.

"_Lieutenant_ Yaana?" Jonah asked.

"Hi," Yaana greeted the Vulcan woman. "Yes, I'm Yaana," she pointed to Maxill, "and Commander Roberts is that man over there. Your team is very efficient. We weren't sure you'd be able to find us here." She looked curiously at Anthas and Jonah. "You know these two?"

"Of course," T'Pris answered. "They're with Starfleet. They're both close friends - in fact, I've roomed with both of them on the _Enterprise_."

"Small galaxy," Anthas commented ruefully. "I wonder who else we'll run into here."

Jonah looked from Anthas to T'Pris to Yaana. A weird feeling of _déjà vu_ hit him, seeing the three of them together – like the four of them meeting, even in such an out-of-the-way place as a room of a dungeon in a fortress on Rigel VII had some significance he couldn't quite place. It wasn't his imagination – he could tell from the look of puzzlement on the three women's faces that they had experienced something similar.

The sound of phase fire from outside the room drew their attention. It was time to leave. One of the Vulcans entered the room, Jonah recognised him from the _Enterprise_, although he couldn't remember the man's name. He spoke urgently to the Vulcan who had been talking with Maxill, no, Roberts. Roberts beckoned to Lewty who had been quietly observing the interactions around him. "O.K. this is it, Lewty, we're leaving." 

They encountered only two settlement people on their way to the courtyard, evidently the alarm had not yet been raised. The Vulcans' ground cars were waiting, anti-grav already on-line. The two vehicles hovered, rear doors open ready for boarding, but Lewty and Roberts headed to Lewty's car. The two men began reloading the large container that had been dumped from the car. Neither of them wanted to leave the drugs behind. Sevrek yelled a warning to Roberts.

"Commander, the Rigellians."

Jonah looked round. Now the alarm had been raised. People were pouring from all of the buildings around them, but Lewty and Roberts still struggled with the container.

"This comes with us," Roberts barked back at Sevrek, and the three men between them lifted the container onto the back of the car.

Meanwhile Jonah, T'Pris, Yaana and Anthas had climbed into the back of the nearer car, which pulled away. Behind them Kira and the other Vulcans were climbing into the other car. Phaser fire exploded around them. From the rear of the car, Jonah could see Lewty's vehicle finally pull away. The three cars headed through the fortress gates and into the fields beyond.

The rescue attempt had gone smoothly, with no casualties. The three ground vehicles escaped across the open fields, leaving no trail that the Rigellians could follow at night. The rendezvous point that they had arranged with their shuttle was at the foot of a mountain range to the east of the settlement, and they made good time in the dark.

However, at the rendezvous things did not go so well. The shuttle was there, but it had been damaged. Phaser burns had opened up one side of the shuttle, and the port nacelle was nearly sheared completely away. 

"What's happened here?" Sevrek demanded of the flight crew. The pilot began to explain.

The shuttle had originally landed at the designated landing field for the settlement, to the south-west of the fortress. The landing field was situated there so that visitors to the settlement would only pass through fields of ordinary crops, which was how the Rigellians concealed their real activity from most people. The landing field was guarded, which was why Sevrek had not chosen that as the rendezvous point. However, in flying from the landing site to the rendezvous point the pilot had flown too close to the settlement and come under phaser fire. The damage could be repaired, but could take until morning. Most of the Vulcan team, those with engineering experience, set about making repairs. Sevrek, Lewty and Roberts disappeared away from the shuttle to discuss what they would do next. Roberts's demeanour had changed now that he was around Sevrek and the other Vulcans. He was polite, caring and soft-spoken. He seemed a completely different person

Kira took a thermal blanket and found an area away from the rest. She sat looking up at the huge circle of the moon as it rose over the mountain top.

Taurik approached her. "Excuse me, errm, Major," he announced deferentially.

"Yes?" Kira responded brusquely.

"I …" the Vulcan seemed ill at ease. "You're Bajoran aren't you?"

"What of it?" Kira was annoyed at the intrusion, but also wondered what the young Vulcan wanted. Taurik almost moved away, but he felt compelled to continue.

"Nothing, I just …" Kira had only met Vulcans once or twice, but from what she knew Vulcans were not this unsure of themselves. "I had a friend once, on the _Enterprise_. She was Bajoran. You just … remind me of her in some way."

Kira was intrigued.

"'Was' Bajoran? What happened to her?"

"She was killed by Cardassians while on a mission."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kira suddenly felt a great deal of sympathy for the young Vulcan. He obviously missed his friend deeply, yet did not understand the emotions he was feeling. Why else would he come to a complete stranger for comfort, simply because she was of the same race as his dead friend?

"My name's Kira. Kira Nerys," she introduced herself.

"Taurik," Taurik responded.

"And what was your friend's name?"

"Sito. Sito Jaxa."

"Tell me about her," Kira offered. Taurik sat down next to her.

Further away from the shuttle, Anthas, T'Pris and Jonah were catching up on the time they had missed. They found a spot that was sheltered, where their thermal generator would be hidden from any I.R. detector on the plain below, and had formed a circle around it. On discovering that Roberts was too preoccupied to want her assistance, Yaana drifted over to the three friends and stood close to them, listening to their gossip, enjoying the sound of their easy conversation and feeling drawn to it. They were talking about how different T'Pris seemed to them.

"You know, hugging us when you saw us, that almost seemed like an emotional display," Jonah commented. "Not that I'm criticising it."

Yaana saw the silhouette of T'Pris shrug.

"I have spent a lot of time around other Vulcans, over the past few months. It made me realise more how much I welcomed the emotionality of your behaviour. I looked back at the time I shared with you on the _Enterprise_ and thought that perhaps that was more true to who I was than the completely emotionless person Vulcan society says I should be."

Jonah was about to respond when he noticed Yaana standing at the edge of the circle of dull red light cast by the thermal generator. 

"Hi, Yaana," he said. "Come and join us." He shifted, opening up the circle to make room for her. Yaana sat with the other three. They were quiet for a moment. Jonah tried to start the conversation off again.

"T'Pris was telling us she's been promoted to lieutenant. I'd never have guessed that you were a lieutenant too."

"Why? Because I'm Orionese?" she felt offended by the insinuation.

"No, no," Jonah was concerned that he may have insulted her. "No – because you carried off your cover persona so effectively."

"Good recovery," Anthas murmured.

"I guess the whole thing was an act, you, Roberts, the slavery bit," Jonah realised that he was fishing for information, but he needed to know that Yaana wasn't being abused. He remembered the bruises on Yaana's arm. That was some role play.

"Not really," Yaana paused. Then it all flooded out. This was the first chance she'd had to speak to people for so long, the first time she'd felt so comfortable around people, and there was so much she wanted to talk about.

With only a few promptings from Jonah and one or two from Anthas she told them the whole story. About how she'd grown up on a federation starbase with her mother, hearing about the slavery of her people, and wanting to do something about it. Joining the Academy at 17, then Starfleet Intelligence at 21. Taking on as much as possible, as young as possible, in order to find the slavers and free the women of her race. She had been made a Lieutenant at the age of 22 in recognition of the dangerous assignments she had taken. She had met Roberts during Intelligence training, he had been one of her instructors, and they had become lovers within a short space of time. He had been very caring and understanding then. They soon went into the field together, he taking on the role of her master, she his slave. And then he had begun to change. At first it was simply a role, he would pretend to beat her, only demean her in public to keep up the pretence. But the role resonated with something inside him, he began to get enjoy it, and gradually began to need it. The master persona took him over, and to a certain extent, the slave persona took her over. Before long it was who they really were. And now they couldn't escape it. She had tried to suggest they stop, go back to civilian life, or at least leave the Orion Sector, but each time she suggested it he became even more violent. He threatened to follow her and even kill her if she tried to leave. She believed him. He had contacts and influence, both within the Orion Syndicate and within Starfleet Intelligence. No-one would believe her if she told them what Roberts was really doing to her, there was nowhere for her to go. 

Yaana fell quiet then. Anthas, who was sitting to her left, took her hand.

"It's O.K., it's O.K." she repeated.

Yaana looked at her and smiled. "No – it's not really, is it?"

Anthas put her arm around her. "No, I guess it isn't," she conceded. Anthas looked up at something behind Jonah. Jonah turned. It was Roberts.

"Lieutenant Yaana, Lieutenant T'Pris, time to leave," he informed them. Yaana and T'Pris stood up in response to the order. Jonah and Anthas followed them more grudgingly, and began to walk towards the shuttle.

Roberts stood in their way.

"No, you stay here," he ordered Anthas and Jonah.

"What?" Jonah demanded.

"I don't know you. I don't know who you work for. In my opinion you threaten the security of my mission. We're leaving you here," Roberts told him.

"We'll see about that," T'Pris responded and walked off towards Sevrek. Roberts walked away, heading to the shuttle. Yaana looked from Anthas to Jonah, she hesitated a moment, then turned and ran after Roberts. All around them the Vulcans were preparing to leave. A cargo bay door had opened in the shuttle and the three ground cars were driven on board. They could hear T'Pris arguing with someone, probably Sevrek. She actually sounded angry. The last of the Vulcans had entered the shuttle when T'Pris returned.

"It's no use. Roberts is the senior officer here, so what he says goes. If I don't get on board now, then they'll leave me here too," she informed them. "I'm sorry, I … I have to go."

T'Pris ran to the shuttle door, where Sevrek was waiting for her. He took one look at them, then the door was closed. 

"Better move back," a voice came out of the dark. It was Major Kira. It seemed that Roberts had objected to her presence too.

They did as she suggested, joining her, then watched forlornly as the shuttle took off and disappeared into the night sky.

Jonah had been watching the moon move through the sky of Rigel VII for most of the night. He knew every feature of its face. It seemed to fill the sky. When he had first started living in the Rigel system, being outdoors had unnerved him. Having spent the first twelve years of his life on a small freighter made him quite agoraphobic for quite a while. He had rarely left the populated areas on those planets, even after he had become used to open spaces.

Although Rigel was a supergiant star around 50,000 times more luminous than Earth's sun, Rigel VII orbited it at a distance of just over 200 A.U., which meant that the climate was that of a typical M-class world. And although that part of the planet was around half-way through its decades-long spring phase, the nights could still be on the cold side. Jonah lay next to the thermal generator, huddled against Anthas, hearing the sounds of the wildlife of Seven, and grateful for the reassuring presence of Kira, a few metres away, wrapped in a thermal blanket, attentive to the sounds around them. She had volunteered to take the first watch. Jonah saw her suddenly tense at movement in the grass beyond the clearing, then relaxed on hearing the call of some animal.

Jonah had been on Seven many times before, but only in the towns. He guessed Kira had never been to the Rigel system before, but still he was confident in her ability to get them through this. There were dangerous animals in the wilds of Rigel VII, although most had been driven to near extinction, and each animal cry he heard made his hair stand on end. However, he trusted Kira's judgement about which noises were to be worried about and which weren't.

He tried to remember the nursery rhyme the children of Rigel used to sing about the moon. The tune, he knew, came from a Terran song, Fréré Jacques. He dragged it from his childhood memories: 

"The Moon over Rigel VII, 

Shines so clear, shines so bright. 

Bringing light to darkness, bringing light to darkness. 

Shadows at night, shadows at night." 

Jonah repeated it to himself as a kind of mantra. He knew that it was traditional to sing it round campfires in just such a situation, but nothing he knew could have induced him to make a sound in the darkness, with who knew what listening.

Kira had suggested they stay there for the night, then get their bearings after dawn, and try and work their way back to the _Anduin_, avoiding any patrols that might be out. It had seemed like a good idea, although the security of the ship seemed a long way away now. 

Anthas had curled up in Jonah's arms, he guessed because of the cold. The temperature wasn't that low, but both he and Anthas were used to the homeostatic environments of a starship, and so neither could adapt very well to changes in temperature. Although Anthas and Jonah had become very good friends since their time on Veridian, that was all they were, and yet fate had now pushed them into close physical proximity twice on this trip, once at Madam Majj's and now here. Anthas's complete lack of discomfort about being so physically close to him was a strong indication that she didn't feel anything more for him than friendship. Jonah's feelings weren't quite so platonic. He tried to think calm, dispassionate thoughts as he held her. He had survived lying next to her in bed at Majj's, with only a few centimetres (that had felt like parsecs at the time) between them. This would be far easier, he hoped.

Anthas stirred in his arms, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard ground. Her right antenna brushed gently against his face as she did so. Jonah sighed. It was going to be a long night.

On a Rigellian freighter, in orbit around Rigel VII, T'Pris renewed her argument with Lieutenant-Commander Sevrek.

"Sir," she demanded. "They are Starfleet personnel. We can't abandon them."

Sevrek was uncertain. On the one hand Roberts was in command of the mission and he had given direct instructions to leave the three people on the planet below. But Sevrek was beginning to doubt Roberts's decision-making. Roberts had insisted that the shuttle take him and Lewty to where their spaceships had landed, although it would have been more logical to abandon them. The ships had, of course, been guarded by the people from the settlement. Roberts had instructed them to lay down covering phaser fire, then land. Roberts had sent four of the team out to collect the ships. Luckily there were no casualties amongst them, but Sevrek couldn't say the same about the people from the settlement. Roberts seemed to have completely ignored Starfleet policy to avoid conflict wherever possible,

And then when they had rendezvoused with the freighter in orbit, Roberts's behaviour had continued to bother him. The consignment of drugs that Lewty had acquired had been loaded aboard the _Hermes_, which was then made ready to return to the _Zeus_. Roberts had then ordered the _Pandora_ to be made ready for his own departure. Roberts's briefing to his team before he left had only gone some way to explaining his actions.

"Well done," he had congratulated them, "this is the biggest breakthrough in this case we've ever had. Not only have we identified the producers – the first step in the chain – we now, thanks to this man here," he had indicated Lewty, "have a chance of following the network through to the next link in that chain." Roberts had then dismissed everyone else from the briefing room, since the rest of the briefing had been for Sevrek only. Lewty left too, to return to the _Zeus_ before they became too suspicious about his delay.

"The plan is for Lewty to appear to return his part of the consignment to the _Zeus_," Roberts had explained to Sevrek. "He will then make his excuses to the crew of the _Zeus_ and leave for Rigel X on the _Hermes_. I want you to follow the _Zeus_ to its next stop, which is Rigel XII. Once the consignment is unloaded, you are to move in and arrest both the crew on board the _Zeus_ and the colonists on Twelve. That way we'll have enough evidence to convict both groups. We won't have anything on Alexander himself, but I think he's untouchable at the moment. Meanwhile Lewty and I are planning a bust of our own. Lewty has removed one cylinder from the case he's handing over to the _Zeus_. We've made contact with an operative from the Orion Syndicate named Draim. We've told him that we're going to steal some of the narcotics from Alexander and will sell them on. Draim will meet us on Ten to purchase the drugs, at which point we'll move in on him and arrest him. Providing everything goes to plan we'll close down two major supply channels in this sector."

Roberts had left the briefing room, heading towards the shuttle bay of the freighter. He had bumped into T'Pris, who had been waiting outside, scowled at her, then continued. T'Pris had then immediately entered the briefing room and had begun demanding that Sevrek allow her to return to Rigel VII. 

"Sir," T'Pris repeated. "We can't abandon them."

Sevrek hesitated, still thinking through the alternatives.

"Roberts has explained his plan to me. It is ingenious, and highly logical. This makes acceding to your request very difficult. I do not want to go against someone who is capable of such meticulous thinking."

T'Pris tried another line of argument. "Sir, is it logical to leave them there? What does it accomplish?"

"I must admit, I cannot see a rational motive for leaving Starfleet personnel on the surface, since they cannot reasonably have any influence on the outcome of events." Sevrek paused for a few moments, balancing the validity of the alternatives. "Lieutenant, I cannot authorise you to go to the surface. However, I will not oppose you if you do. Rescue the major and the others, if you wish, but if Starfleet investigates, I will tell them that you did so without my permission. Is that clear?"

T'Pris nodded. It was perfectly clear. She would take all the risks, and yet Sevrek's conscience would be eased. 

"You have exactly one hour before we leave orbit," Sevrek informed her.

She headed towards the shuttle bay, and was met by Taurik.

"You're going to the surface aren't you? To pick up your friends?" he asked. T'Pris nodded. "I'm coming too," he told her.

The temperature had dropped still further on the part of the surface of Rigel VII where Kira, Jonah and Anthas were waiting for daylight. Dawn was now only an hour or so away. The three had slept fitfully, taking turns at keeping watch. It was Anthas's turn now. She looked out at the darkness surrounding them, although her antennae could detect far more than her eyes could. Molecules drifted on the air, detectable over the familiar traces of the man asleep with his head resting on her lap, the woman curled up on the other side of the thermal generator, but not in significant enough amounts to indicate that there were any animals nearby, and there was nothing to indicate that there were any Rigellians in the vicinity.

However, there was something, a slight pressure increase, like a shock wave through the air, coming closer. Anthas looked up but couldn't see anything. Then she noticed stars being occluded as if by something black and silent passing in front of them. She shook Jonah awake, then called to Kira.

"Something's coming – look!" she pointed to the sky above. Kira turned off the thermal generator and the three ran to an outcropping of rock to shelter from whatever was approaching them. 

They heard the ship fly above their heads. As It came nearer they saw it was a Rigellian shuttle. The one that the others had left on earlier that night. It landed and the door opened. Silhouetted in the light from inside was T'Pris.

The three hurried on board, as grateful for the escape from the cold as for reaching the security of the vessel.

"Where now?" Taurik asked from the pilot's seat.

"Rigel X, I guess," T'Pris answered him. She looked at Jonah and Anthas. "I assume you want to get Yaana back.

Kira had other ideas. "No, I still want the Orb. It must be on the _Zeus_ – that's the only place no-one looked for it." However, she didn't like the idea either of leaving the young Lieutenant in the possession of Roberts. She turned to Taurik. "Take us to my ship, the _Anduin_. With any luck it won't be guarded. The Rigellians will have assumed we've all left long ago."

Kira was right. The _U.S.S. Anduin_ lay on the plain unguarded; the squat grey shape of the Danube-class runabout incongruous amongst the long grass. Taurik landed the shuttle next to it. No-one moved.

"Who's taking the runabout, then?" Anthas asked.

"I have to get the shuttle back to the freighter," Taurik explained. "We have to reach it before it leaves orbit to follow the _Zeus_."

"Then I'd better go with you," Kira decided. She turned to Anthas. "You take the _Anduin –_ I'll give you the access codes." 

"Of course," Anthas hugged the major with excitement. "You'll get it back. Promise. And if we can ever do anything to help you …" She broke off as she suddenly realised that Kira was not really the kind of person one hugged.

"Take care of it," Kira warned her. "I want it back in one piece."

As Anthas and Jonah left the shuttle, they were joined, to their surprise, by T'Pris. 

"I think me and Starfleet Intelligence are through," she said by way of explanation. "Besides, I've missed An's piloting skills."

The sarcasm was wasted on Anthas. She was already running ahead to the _Anduin._

__

X

"Roberts said he was planning a sting operation," T'Pris explained to Anthas and Jonah. The three of them were in the cockpit of the _Anduin_ in orbit around Rigel X. The _Pandora_ and the _Hermes_ were already on the surface, but deciding their next move was proving difficult. "That's what he told Lieutenant-Commander Sevrek. Apparently someone from the Orion Syndicate called Draim will be meeting Roberts on Rigel X, to buy drugs. Roberts will then arrest him," T'Pris paused, seeing Jonah's questioning look. "I listened in on their meeting," she confessed.

Jonah considered this. "That must have been what the three of them were planning back at Gaila's. And if we know Roberts, then he's actually going to sell the drugs that Lewty got from Rigel VII, not bust Draim."

"You don't know that," T'Pris argued. "You don't even know that Lewty has stolen the drugs he was buying on Seven and is in league with Roberts. You're just assuming Roberts is a crook because of the way he treats Yaana."

"Don't the two go together?"

"No, not at all. He could be committed to the law, and yet have an abusive relationship with his partner."

"That's kind of double standards isn't it? Work towards freeing the Galaxy, yet enslave the person closest to you."

"Yes, it's double standards," T'Pris concurred, "but still possible. One's very abstract, and the other's very personal. It's quite possible for Roberts to want to save people in general, but hurt someone specifically." T'Pris was obviously uncomfortable about going against the chain of command to this extent. She had been working with Starfleet Intelligence for several months, and had learned to respect the people with whom she'd been working. "He's already identified the drugs run to Rigel XII, and implicated Hephaestus Holdings in the smuggling. Isn't that proof that he's on the side of the law?"

"Hhmm, he probably did that just to cover his tracks. With the crew of the _Zeus_ busted there'd be no way for them to find out that Lewty had stolen from him." Jonah looked at Anthas. "What do you think?"

Anthas thought for a moment.

"I'm with Jonah. I don't know if Roberts is crooked or not. I just want Yaana to be free of him."

"O.K. two-to-one we get the bastard," Jonah concluded, but T'Pris shook her head.

"No. I'm with you. Yaana should be with us, not him."

"Excellent," Anthas rejoiced. "'All for one, and one for all." Jonah and T'Pris looked at her blankly. She shrugged.

Their first problem was keeping Roberts and Lewty on the planet below. That was solved by intercepting Draim. With the _Anduin_'s sensors at maximum it was an easy task to detect his ship as it approached. They hailed it. After a few moments, they got a response. Arissa appeared on the viewscreen. She seemed surprised to recognise the person hailing her.

"Aren't you the guy from Rigel IV? The one in Gaila's study?" she looked to one side, making sure Draim wasn't in the cabin.

"That's right. Arissa, isn't it?"

"Is this a Federation ship? Your transponder reading says _U.S.S. Anduin_."

"We're, uh, borrowing it," which was the truth, but Jonah said it with an intonation that implied something underhand. "Arissa, that information you got me was very useful. Time to repay the favour." Jonah took a breath. This was his last chance to change his mind about selling out Roberts, and possibly Starfleet. "Tell Draim that the person he was to meet on Rigel X is in Starfleet Intelligence. Tell him not to contact anyone, just get out of here. Will you do that?" The screen went dead. Then flicked back on. It was Draim. 

"I don't know who you are, or what you're talking about. I think you've made a mistake," he said. The screen went dead again. T'Pris was monitoring the sensors. 

"Draim's just changed course," she informed them. "Heading back out of the System. What's next?"

"We call Alexander."

It took a few calls. Alexander was a difficult man to reach. Every secretary Jonah spoke to asked if they could take a message. Jonah assured them that Alexander would not want his message passed on to anyone else. Eventually Alexander appeared on the viewscreen. Jonah took a deep breath. Alexander's image was far more imposing over a viewscreen, where his being only a metre tall was not apparent. 

"Jonah! I've just heard some terrible news. Apparently the crew on board the _Zeus_ were smuggling drugs! They've just been picked up by Starfleet Intelligence on Rigel XII." Alexander appeared shocked by the news. "You will inform Starfleet that I had nothing to do with it, won't you?"

Jonah got the picture – Alexander had only employed Jonah and Anthas as an alibi. He could keep them around, but hide the truth from them, and then claim that he must be innocent, or why else would he have employed two Starfleet people? And if they didn't back him up, he could implicate them, there was that threat implicit too. And what could be more convincing than the testimony of two members of Starfleet? Setting Starfleet against Starfleet. Well, two could play that game.

"Alexander, I know who told Starfleet about the drugs on the _Zeus_," Jonah informed him.

Alexander was surprised. "You do?"

Jonah nodded. "Lewty."

"Now why would he do something like that?"

Jonah shrugged non-commitally. Lewty's only reason was to hide his theft of Alexander's drugs, there was no way Jonah was going to accuse Alexander of drug smuggling. 

"Not that I knew anything about the drugs anyway," Alexander automatically defended himself. "But what would Lewty do with those drugs once he'd stolen them? How could anyone smuggle drugs past Starfleet?" Any individual, Jonah amended to himself. Anyone without the backing of an organisation like Hephaestus Holdings to frighten off any investigation.

"He's got an accomplice, working inside Starfleet Intelligence, who can get them past the random stop and searches."

"This is all very interesting," Alexander was still evasive. "How do you know all this?"

"We've been following him, watching him. Would you like to know where he is now?" Jonah asked.

"Hhhmm, yes, quite," Alexander concealed his interest very poorly. "I am wondering what's in it for you, however."

"Your gratitude, Alexander," Jonah replied. "Nothing more."

"A wise choice, Jonah," Alexander was pleased. "My gratitude can prove very lucrative." The genial face became hard suddenly. "Now Jonah, where is he?"

"Rigel X. We're in standard orbit above him as we speak."

"I'll have an operative out to you within the hour." The viewscreen blinked out.

Jonah let out a very shaky breath. This could all go very horribly wrong, but he was committed now, no backing out. Anthas looked at him.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Joe," she said, the fear creeping into her voice.

"Not really," he admitted.

Alexander's operative arrived a short time later. The three on the _Anduin_ had wondered how someone would be able to get there so soon. As the shuttle dropped out of warp, they realised how. From the readings their sensors were getting the small ship was a type-12 Federation shuttlecraft. None of the three had ever heard of one being privately owned. Being an "operative" must be a profitable profession. By an odd coincidence, the name of the shuttlecraft was "Cochrane".

The shuttlecraft hailed them. The face that appeared on the viewscreen was human, and pale and gaunt. Jonah felt the face was uncomfortably familiar, but couldn't quite place where he'd seen it before.

"Burn," was all he said. For a moment Jonah thought the man was making some sort of threat. Then it clicked. This was Burn. This was the man who had murdered his parents. He felt sick. Then another realisation struck him. If Burn worked for Alexander, then it must have been Alexander who had ordered his parents killed. The man whose life he had saved – twice – only a few months before was the man he had been looking for. He'd even lost an arm saving him. If only he had let those assassins on Veridian III do their job – then Alexander would already have encountered the justice he deserved. But now there was no way he could touch Alexander.

But he was faced with the opportunity to kill one of the men responsible for his parents' deaths - Burn. The shuttlecraft wasn't shielded, and the _Anduin_ had enough fire-power to destroy it. He could just press the button, and Burn would be no more.

But that would mean that there'd be no-one to rescue Yaana. The three of them couldn't do it. That kind of operation required skills they lacked. They couldn't be sure that Roberts wouldn't be able to defend himself, even against three people. Besides, Starfleet might investigate the death, and trace it back to them. Jonah didn't want to do time in a penal colony somewhere. He needed Burn alive.

"Joe!" Anthas hissed. "Say something."

Jonah came out of his reverie. He noticed Burn was looking at him with an odd expression. Maybe it was recognition. Could they have met somewhere?

"Jonah Cochrane," he introduced himself. "Has Alexander told you what he wants?"

"Sure, two guys ripping him off. He wants them taken out."

"Right. Also – there's a woman down there – an Orion slave – she's a present for Alexander. She's not to be harmed. Just bring her back here."

Burn nodded, and the viewscreen blinked out.

Jonah sat back. He felt uneasy about the whole thing. Then he stood up and headed for the transporter.

"Beam me down," he asked Anthas. "I want to make sure Yaana's safe."

"You're sure?" Anthas asked. 

"No," he answered, he just knew he couldn't just sit and wait.

Anthas had beamed Jonah down to one of the domes on the surface of Rigel X. Ten was a Class K planet - airless and inhospitable. It had a single outpost, long since abandoned, which was the only structure on the planet. Six interconnected domes stood among the rocky landscape, fringed with frozen methane. The domes were part of a geological survey; the computers located in the domes monitored thousands of remotes which bored through the planet. The remotes analysed every ore they encountered and reported back. If they discovered something of particular importance, such as illium 629 (a decay product of dilithium), then the automatic systems would raise an alarm and bring in geologists from the mining corporation that ran Rigel XII. Otherwise every six months a team landed, checked that everything was working, and disappeared again. Since the dilithium mines on Twelve had run dry forty years before, the chief hope was that more crystals would be found on the planet. A few hundred kilos would mean renewed economic prosperity for the entire system. So far nothing worth mining had been found. The domes, however, were kept in constant readiness should any of the remotes discover anything of value.

Anthas and T'Pris had wanted to come with him, but he'd insisted that it wouldn't help. One person would be more likely to go undetected than three. All he had to do was find Yaana and bring her back. Now he was beginning to regret leaving Anthas and T'Pris behind as he walked through the deserted corridors of the geology station.

The base was built in a concentric circle pattern. The control room was at the centre of the dome. Jonah guessed that Lewty and Roberts would be there. Maybe Yaana would be with them.

The doors to the control room were open. Jonah peered round the open doorway and saw Lewty and Roberts sitting at a table at the centre, laughing and drinking. A large metal container stood on the table, similar to the one Lewty had picked up from the people on Rigel VII. Jonah couldn't see Yaana at first, then saw her half-hidden under one of the consoles at the edge of the control room. She was naked, curled into a foetal ball, and appeared to be crying. Her face was turned away from him, hidden in the corner between console and floor, her long green hair spread out across the metal floor.

Jonah realised that he could reach her without being seen if he crawled behind the inner ring of consoles since they would hide him from the two sitting at the table. He could reach her, take her away and beam her to safety before Burn arrived and the shooting started.

Jonah entered the room on all fours, inching slowly across the floor, trying not to make a sound. He reached Yaana and sat next to her. Gently he touched her shoulder. Her skin was cold. She shivered as he touched her, and then without any further movement she began screaming.

Jonah backed away, not sure what to do. He turned getting ready to get to his feet and run, and was confronted by Lewty and Roberts.

Roberts had a phaser in his hand. He pointed it at Jonah and fired.

The beam hit Jonah and, as he fell, he felt his muscles stiffen. It was on its lowest setting. Jonah was still conscious, but was paralysed. He felt tingling over his skin, but his legs refused to move.

"Did you stun him?" Lewty asked.

"No," Roberts replied. "He's not stunned. He's going to feel everything." He bent down to lean over Jonah. "I told you to stay away from her, didn't I? Now I'm going to show you why you should do what I say." From his boot he removed a knife. He held it up to Jonah's face. "I am going to slice you up so bad …" Roberts face split into a malicious grin. Then kept on splitting.

Jonah had enough motor control to close his eyes. He heard a loud thud as Roberts's body hit the floor, and then Lewty screaming over and over. The screaming stopped. Jonah realised he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly and opened his eyes. He was looking into the face of Burn.

"You O.K.?" Burn asked, then to himself said, "of course he is. You were, so he is." Burn reached out a hand towards Jonah. It was prosthetic like Jonah's. "You know, I've waited seventeen years to do that," he said. Burn took Jonah's left arm and began moving it, forcing off the paralysis. Next he started on Jonah's legs. Slowly Jonah began to regain some feeling. Burn helped Jonah to his feet. Jonah swayed unsteadily and leant against the nearest console. Behind Burn he could make out Roberts's headless corpse. Further away was an oily mess that was probably once Lewty.

"Better?" asked Burn. Jonah nodded mutely. Burn looked at him intently. "You'd better contact Anthas. Tell her to land and pick you up."

Jonah mumbled. "No, no. Beam out."

"I don't think so, you'll want to take these," Burn was walking over to the table where the container still stood. "And the filters on the transporter won't accept them. Call An, O.K.?"

Jonah was still woozy from the phaser hit. The impossibility of this hitman knowing Anthas, of giving him the narcotics he should be collecting for Alexander, of looking like an older version of himself, wasn't properly sinking in. Later he'd kick himself for not asking any questions of Burn, but at that moment his only thoughts were to sit down before he fell down.

"I'll see you later, Joe," Burn said. "Give my love to T'Pris." He dissolved in a transporter beam.

A loud cry brought Jonah to his full senses. Turning carefully he saw Yaana kneeling over the corpse of Roberts, her hair cascading over his body. She began rocking backwards and forwards, wailing uncontrollably.

Jonah watched Anthas return to the bridge and begin running a diagnostic check on the systems. 

"How's Yaana?" Jonah asked.

"I don't know, she seemed really messed up when we first picked you up," Anthas replied. That had been only an hour earlier. The _Anduin_ had landed on one of the landing rings of the geology base once Jonah had told them he wouldn't be beaming up. Anthas had been surprised to see Jonah pushing the container full of narcotics along the docking airlock corridor, but had forgotten any questions she might have had when she saw Yaana following behind. The woman had seemed so distraught that she was not aware of anything around her, dazedly following Jonah, her head lowered. While Jonah had stowed the container, she and T'Pris had led Yaana to the living quarters in the aft section, where they had already prepared a cabin for her. As soon as Anthas had piloted the _Anduin_ back to orbit above Rigel X she had gone back to see how Yaana was getting on. Yaana was now surprised at the change. "She seems fine. Either she's very resilient, or she's suppressing a lot. God knows what that _pahtk_ had done to her."

"Maybe. Or maybe it was seeing him murdered." 

"Joe, don't blame yourself," Anthas told him. "O.K. you set Alexander on to him, but it wasn't you that killed Roberts and Lewty."

Jonah was silent. He hadn't told any of them that he had a strong suspicion that it _was_ him who'd killed them, but a different, older version of himself.

"But do you think I did the right thing, An?" Joe asked.

Anthas paused before answering, occupying herself with the diagnostic. "I don't know," she finally answered. "I mean, we still really have no evidence that Roberts _wasn't_ actually carrying out a sting operation to catch Draim and Lewty."

"No, we don't. It's ironic, but Roberts was right to leave us stranded on Seven. He said we'd jeopardise his mission and we did."

"So we could be directly responsible for the death of a Starfleet Agent carrying out his duty. And for Draim still being at large," Anthas pursued her argument.

"Draim's going to have the Intelligence services of half-a-dozen systems after him. He'll end up on a penal colony before too long."

"And Roberts?"

"It was the only way to protect Yaana from him. You heard what she said. He'd never leave her alone. We had no choice," Jonah knew he was rationalising his actions, but saying it wasn't improving the way he felt. 

"'It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it,'" Anthas quoted, gently mocking him.

"What?" Jonah was confused.

"Never mind," Anthas looked at him – with a mixture of amusement and affection. She had to admit he'd impressed her. He could be ruthless when it meant protecting people he cared about and she liked that. She tapped a course into the helm of the ship, _her_ ship, for the time being, listening to T'Pris and Yaana conversing earnestly in one of the cabins, the sounds of the engines humming. The sounds of home. Jonah was looking through the ship's library on one of the viewers.

"Want some music?" he asked. "Got any preference?"

Anthas leant back in her chair, looking out at the starscape on the viewscreen. The galaxy that the four of them would explore together.

"Anything," she said. "Surprise me."

__

XII

"It's not here!" Kira screamed.

She had torn the _Zeus_ apart, practically with her bare hands, trying to find the Orb. She couldn't understand it. There were only three people who could have taken it from Gaila; Roberts, Draim or Lewty. Gaila had searched Draim's ship, Quark had searched the _Pandora_ on Rigel VII. She had searched the _Hermes_ herself, on Two. The Rigellians on Seven had searched Lewty's ground car. That only left the_ Zeus_. There was nowhere else it could be, nowhere where it could have been dropped off. She sat and thought. Unless Lewty had left it with someone on Rigel II after escaping her at Madam Majj's. But that meant it could be anywhere now.

She sat in the corner of two bulkheads and let her head sink into her hands. It was so frustrating. She had come so close to retrieving the Orb. After 6000 years of reverence it had been ferried from one cesspool to another and then ultimately lost. It was probably being used as a paperweight in the dressing room of some chorus line dancer for all she knew. 

She groaned and tugged at her hair. 

At least the team from Starfleet Intelligence was happy. Well, at least the non-Vulcan part of the team were happy. They'd followed the _Zeus_ to Rigel XII and waited until the hand-over was complete, then moved in. The drugs that the _Zeus_ crew had picked up from Rigel VII were found in various places within the mining colony. It was obviously being used as a distribution centre, far enough away from the heavily populated planets not to be noticed, and with a local population so impoverished by the failure of the 'lithium crystal mines that they were prepared to do anything. Now all of the _Zeus_'s crew, and a large proportion of the colonists, were under arrest.

Taurik approached her, quietly. Something about the ensign comforted her. She knew Vulcans were supposed to be emotionless, yet she'd learnt something of the pain he still carried over the death of his friend. They'd both endured the loss of loved ones at the hands of the Cardassians, and both survived. She wasn't going to let the loss of an object, even one as important as an Orb of the Prophets, bring her to despair. She smiled at the young Vulcan and stood up.

"I'm returning to Bajor. There's nothing for me here. Would you like to come with me? You could meet the Sito family and pay your respects at the family burial grounds. I'm sure that they would be very pleased to meet you."

Taurik lowered his head, Kira guessed to hide any emotions that may have appeared on his face. At that moment Quark entered.

"I'm finished with the Rigel System. And finished with that damn Gaila. I followed you here to tell you that if you want a lift back to Bajor, I can take you. If you like."

"Yes. Thank you Quark," Kira replied, grateful, for once, to see the Ferengi. "We'll have one guest with us on the trip." Together Kira, Taurik and Quark left the _Zeus_ and headed towards the Ferengi's ship. Around the spaceport dome lay the barren methane icescape of XII, and above them shone Rigel, the distant sun reduced to a cold speck of light.


	6. Kindred

6 Kindred ****

6 Kindred

_

****

Yaana spent most of the first day after leaving Rigel X alone in her cabin. Jonah and Anthas also needed to recuperate – they hadn't slept properly since being woken in the middle of the night by Major Kira at Madam Majj's on Rigel II. They were in orbit around Rigel XII, where they had travelled in order to meet up with Major Kira so that they could return the _U.S.S. Anduin_ to her, but she had already left. Rather than follow her to Deep Space Nine they had decided to wait until Yaana had recovered so that they could involve her in their plans on what to do next. The runabout had been fitted out with a habitation unit, so each of them had a cabin to themselves, and there was also a communal area. Anthas, Jonah and T'Pris were eating there together when Yaana joined them.

"Yaana," Jonah greeted her. "How do you feel?"

Yaana had changed into a Starfleet uniform, a black all-in-one uniform with yellow epaulettes, and had tied back her long green hair. The Orion slave girl was gone, almost completely. The only reminder of her previous role was a copper armband around her left arm, and a chain-like choker around her neck. She sat at the remaining chair by the table.

"Like I'm waking up from a long nightmare," she took the drink Jonah handed to her. "It doesn't seem real somehow. That's what this is for," she ran her fingers along the chain around her neck. "To remind me that it did happen. And that so many other Orion women are still enduring the same treatment. Do you know," she reflected, half to herself, "Roberts was actually going to sell those narcotics to Draim? He and Lewty were discussing it. He knew that the undercover operation was nearly over and we'd have to go back to Earth. He was going to quit Starfleet and set himself up as a drug dealer with the proceeds." She shook her head, the long green hair already coming loose. "He didn't want to give me up, you see. He'd got so used to the power over me it was like he was addicted to it and couldn't live without it. And I'd have let him." She sipped her drink contemplatively. The others were quiet, lost for words. 

"So what are you going to do now?" Anthas asked.

Yaana set down her glass.

"I've contacted Starfleet Intelligence and asked them for permission to continue the mission. I told them there's a chance I may be able to follow the chain still further. I reviewed the records of the colony on Rigel XII and they contain a list of dates when buyers were due, and what narcotics they wanted to purchase. Just like any other customer database. On stardate 48812 there's due to be a collection of a large amount of Venus. S.I. agreed to my plan to follow the ship making the collection back to its homeplanet."

The other three were impressed. The frightened cowering girl of only the day before already seemed like a strong, determined woman. She was the youngest of them, but seemed to be the one most sure of herself, and most driven.

"Sevrek and his team have already posted tracer probes all round Rigel XII. Any ship approaching will be tagged by one of them. We won't have any trouble following the signal."

"'We'?" all three picked up on the pronoun.

Yaana seemed to lose some of her determination. The vulnerable girl was revealed again, briefly. "I was hoping you'd go with me. I…" she paused. "If that's O.K."

The others agreed. They were all still on sabbatical from the _Enterprise_. Besides, it would be an excuse for them to stay together for a while longer. There was something about the rapport between them that no-one wanted to leave behind just yet.

"S.I. said the _Anduin_ is assigned to a Captain Sisko at Deep Space Nine. He gave his permission to temporarily transfer its assignment to Intelligence. We've got it until the end of the year."

"So what do we do until 48812?" Jonah asked.

Yaana shrugged. "We wait, relax. Whatever you want to do."

The buyers arrived on schedule. On Stardate 48812 a warning light started blinking on one the consoles in the _Anduin_'s cockpit. The light meant that a tracer probe had been activated and would now follow the visiting spaceship and send out a homing signal. The crew of the Anduin would then be able to follow it at a discreet distance.

Yaana watched the scanners intently, observing the spaceship as it approached Rigel XII. She was also monitoring all communications in the area, and heard someone on board the ship attempt to hail the planet, then give up. As the spaceship left orbit Yaana called Anthas to the cockpit. Anthas piloted the _Anduin_, following the probe that had tagged the spaceship.

It was two days before they reached their destination. The four of them took shifts, easily falling into a pattern of monitoring their progress in the cockpit, taking meals together, and sharing off-duty time. Anthas and Jonah had spent most of their time over the previous six months together, and had become very accustomed to each other's company, and T'Pris had shared accommodation with both Jonah and Anthas, so for the three of them it was a familiar and comfortable relationship. For Yaana, her only experience of closeness was with Roberts. Each of the three made every attempt to make Yaana feel part of the group, particularly Jonah, who felt that she might have been especially wary of him because, like Roberts, he was a human. And male.

Jonah and Yaana were sitting in the cockpit towards the end of the second day of their journey. Jonah was attempting to teach Yaana _kal-toh, _but without much progress. Yaana seemed to find such a purely academic exercise pointless, and not a little boring. The conversation moved round to the mission.

"Why Venus?" Jonah asked. "I know it's illegal, but there are plenty of more dangerous drugs around. Far more harmful."

"Do you know what Venus does?" Yaana asked.

"Sure, it's been around for over a century. It alters your appearance, makes you look younger and sexier. The side-effects involve mental problems. Sustained use can induce psychosis, paranoia."

"Do you know who uses it?"

"Mainly vain old rich women who don't know any better."

"Yeah sure. But one of the main users are Orion slavers." Yaana began tapping her _t'an_ rod against the tabletop. "My mother explained it to me. The slavers have auctions, where they sell off the women they have bred. The places where they rear them are called 'kennels'. Did you know that?" Yaana looked at Jonah with a hurt look. "Kennels." Jonah felt unaccountably guilty. He knew that most of the slavers were male humans, and for some reason, being a male human too made him feel some guilt by association. He knew the emotion was irrational, but it was there nonetheless. "However, some women they can't sell. Either they're not attractive enough, or they want to get rid of one of the women they've been using for breeding who's become too old." Yaana looked abstractedly in the direction of the _kal-toh_ structure, but did not see it. Her mind was elsewhere. "So they'll feed them Venus, just enough to make them look young and beautiful for a short while, so they can off-load them onto some gullible customer. An experienced slaver will keep his new slaves under observation for a day or so before buying them, just in case they've been doctored. But the more naïve ones will not realise there's anything wrong with his purchase, until the Venus wears off and they're left with a slave they don't want. Then they have to try the same thing again and again to get rid of them. Until the woman is crazy from overdosing on Venus. And if they can't get rid of them – if everyone knows they're trying to unload bad merchandise, then the only remaining option is to cull them. That's the phrase they use. You know they used to call us Orion animal women?" Yaana asked Jonah, looking intently at him, an angry look in her deep green eyes. "As if we weren't even sapient? So they could justify treating us like animals."

"So how did you end up on that starbase? The one you grew up on with your mother?" Jonah asked her.

"My mother lived in one of the breeding kennels, somewhere in the Orion sector. A visiting trader took a fancy to her and helped her escape, with me in tow. I'd only just been born then. Once out of the system she killed him, but couldn't steer the ship. It carried on unpiloted into Federation space where it was picked up by a Starfleet vessel – the _Yamato-D_."

"She _killed_ him, the guy who'd help her escape?"

"You have to realise, every man my mother had met had used her, been cruel to her. They were all the enemy as far as she was concerned. The alternative never occurred to her. I grew up believing that. That's what she taught me."

"And is that still what you believe?" Jonah asked cautiously.

"I … I don't know. You seem O.K., but…" Yaana was quiet. "In some ways that's scarier. I could end up trusting you, then be betrayed. Like Rob betrayed me. In a way, when he did start being abusive it was almost a relief. It was like all my prejudices were confirmed and I didn't have to risk the uncertainty that comes with trusting someone." She shrugged then gave him a small ironic smile. "Sorry, Joe."

Jonah nodded. He guessed he'd have to accept it, but he was disappointed. An and T'Pris were friends, good friends, but that was all they were. He had hoped that things might go further with Yaana, but he supposed that that was not to be either.

"So now you're looking for that planet, the one you came from, to free them all?" he asked her.

"I suppose so. I'd hoped we might find it by following that spaceship, but we've been moving away from the Orion sector, so I don't hold out much hope of that this time. I don't know what planet I was born on. My mother never knew. Education was not an issue for our masters, except for training in dancing and music and in sex. I don't think she even knew what a planet was, until she escaped." Yaana placed the _t'an_ rod, then picked up another. "That's what I want to do – give those women the chance that my mother gave me, to live freely."

"And the men? What about the men of your race?" Jonah asked.

Yaana was surprised. "You know, I've never thought about them. I guess there must be some, but I've never heard anyone mention them." She looked out of the curved window at the front of the cockpit. "Maybe we'll find out one day."

A few hours later the tracer probe indicated that it was no longer picking up the trail of the spaceship. The probe had lost the trail at a planet that was entered in Starfleet records as Mudd. The _Anduin_ closed on the co-ordinates given by the probe and it soon appeared on their scanners. 

It was a class K planet, devoid of indigenous life, its surface a dull grey and brown colour. They had hoped to approach the planet unobserved. But within a few minutes of entering orbit, a flotilla of small spaceships had left the planet's surface and surrounded them.

One of the ships hailed them, instructing them to lower their shields and prepare to be boarded.

Anthas looked at Yaana questioningly. Yaana shook her head. A few seconds later phaser fire cut across their bow from a dozen spaceships. Anthas flicked off the shields.

Immediately four men beamed aboard. They all looked human, and all were identical. All four were armed and they pointed their weapons at Jonah, Yaana, T'Pris and Anthas. The four backed away from the consoles, and two of the boarders took over the controls. 

So far the mission was not going well.

The _Anduin_ landed on an elevator pad located in the centre of four geodesic domes. As soon as the runabout had landed the pad sank underground, emerging into a large hangar. Jonah, Anthas, Yaana and T'Pris were led out into the hangar, where they were met by a line of thirty or more men, all identical to the four who had beamed aboard, and all with weapons pointing at them. At their centre stood a human-looking woman, in a diaphanous translucent dress. She was tall and very slender, looking as if she perhaps came from a lower gravity planet. Her features were delicate, and she stood with a very upright posture. As she spoke it was with refined, careful tones. 

"And what are you doing here?" she said, addressing Jonah.

The four were silent, trying to think of a way out of their situation, and hoping one of the others would come up with one better than they could think of. The woman was becoming impatient. Under pressure Jonah reverted to type, falling into the trader mode.

"We understood you were in the market for Venus," he said. "I think I can supply you with some."

Yaana was horrified. "Jonah!" she hissed. "What are you doing? We can't start supplying this woman with drugs."

"It's our only way out, Yaana," Jonah murmured under his breath. 

The woman smiled and walked towards Jonah, her guards watching him warily. "I think we can do business," she said, looking up at him demurely. "Come with me. We can go somewhere more comfortable to discuss terms." She looped her arm through his and pulled him with her. Jonah half-turned back to the Anduin, and the three women standing in front of it.

"But the Venus? Don't you want me to fetch it for you?" he asked the woman.

"Oh, one of my servants can get it," she beckoned to one of the guards. "Instruct one of your harem to show him where it is." Jonah was about to laugh at the misunderstanding, until he saw the identical look of outrage on all three faces, even T'Pris's. One of the guards stood at his elbow, waiting for instructions. "Well?" the woman asked.

Jonah looked from one to the other of the three women, desperately trying to not even smirk. "I'll get them," said Anthas shortly, scowling.

Jonah was led through a labyrinth of corridors to a large room, with sumptuous cushions surrounding low tables. The woman, who, after enquiring politely after Jonah's name, had introduced herself as Droxine, arranged herself on one of the cushions and patted the space next to her, indicating that Jonah was to sit there. He did as he was told. Another guard brought wine, and Droxine poured Jonah a glass, her dress falling open provocatively. Jonah found himself watching her, trying to understand his reactions to her. She was very attractive, but there was a primness about her, a refined delicacy to her flirting that made her somehow undesirable. She sat next to him on the cushion, casually allowing her hand to come to rest on his thigh.

T'Pris and Yaana appeared, accompanied by three guards. Closely following them was Anthas and another guard carrying the container that Jonah had obtained on Rigel X. He was carrying it on his own, despite its enormous weight. "Your drugs, my lord," Anthas announced sardonically. T'Pris raised an eyebrow in comment at Jonah entwined on the cushion with their hostess. Jonah suppressed a rueful smile. There was a solidity, a reality to Anthas and his other two friends that Jonah felt very drawn to, something that Droxine lacked. However, his hope that they'd join him was thwarted by the guards. As T'Pris, Anthas and Yaana moved towards him, their path was blocked. 

The guards seated the three women at another table, leaving Droxine and Jonah to conduct the business alone, except for a single guard, who stood attentively, ready to protect his mistress.

Jonah stood up from the cushion. Despite not being consciously attracted to Droxine, he had become aroused by her attentions, which he unsuccessfully tried to hide from her. Self-consciously, he unsealed the container, and looked inside it for the first time. It was full of smaller hexagonal canisters, each about a metre long and 20 centimetres on a side.

The first canister that Jonah opened was full of brown leaves. Jonah sniffed them. Tobacco. The next appeared to be full of small white wafers. The people on Rigel VII hadn't just grown their narcotics, they had processed them too. This was communion, ready to ingest. Another canister. Tobacco again. Jonah started to panic. Perhaps there was no Venus in here. Droxine was becoming unsure, too. She had knelt to look at the canisters where Jonah had laid them on the table, inspecting the contents.

"Don't you know where you put it?" she asked.

"Ahh, I didn't pack it myself," he said.

"You mean, this is stolen merchandise?" Droxine demanded.

Jonah only grinned roguishly, which he had learnt had a way of getting round people, particularly women, since his days at Madam Majj's. It seemed to have the desired effect on Droxine. She gave him one short lascivious look and returned to her position on the cushion.

The next canister was full of small gelatine spheres, probably zoom, Jonah thought. The next he didn't recognise at all, eight-pronged multi-coloured pills. Five out of seventeen. Twelve left. Jonah became very conscious of the remainder.

More tobacco. Eleven left. Marijuana. Ten. And this. This looked like it. Small, white cylindrical pills.

He held the canister out to Droxine. She sat up on her cushion and took it from him, her face lighting up with relief.

"So much! This would be five years' supply for one person." She looked at Jonah calculatingly. "What do you want for it, young man?" she asked him. The phrase struck him as odd. She was surely several years younger than he was.

"I'm not sure," the trader wariness manifested itself. "What do you have to offer?"

"Do you see anything you want?" Droxine asked, her fingers tracing the low neckline of her dress. She looked at him, attempting a passionate stare.

"We'll see," Jonah answered, non-commitally, but smiling warmly back at her. He returned to the canisters. Maraji crystals. Twice. A small fortune.

"You know," Droxine considered. "I could have you all killed and simply take the Venus for myself."

"You could, but then you wouldn't have me to supply you with any more," Jonah replied, trying the roguish smile again. He wondered for the first time what Droxine needed so much Venus for. She wasn't one of the Orion slavers Yaana had been hoping to find, that was obvious. Perhaps she supplied others. She must earn a large income somehow to afford such a large staff. But if she was a pusher, she'd be interested in everything, not just the Venus.

The smile worked again. Droxine flushed.

"You remind me very much of my late husband," she commented. The thought seemed to take her aback. "You are very much like him."

Jonah wasn't listening. The thirteenth canister had revealed something quite different. Something wrapped in an old soiled cloth. It was heavy and only just fitted in the canister. He tipped the canister, and the object rolled onto the table. Jonah unwrapped the cloth and blinked at the light that shone from the object revealed.

It was the Orb of Transcendence.

It had been missing since the day of the auction on Rigel IV. Lewty must have had it in his land car, and transferred it to the container as soon as he'd acquired it from the Rigellians on Rigel VII. When they'd searched the car they'd looked everywhere except the container.

Jonah looked at the Orb. The room around him receded as the Orb absorbed his attention. He began to drift, and was then suddenly brought back to consciousness. He looked up. The guard had taken the Orb from him.

"It's beautiful," Droxine said in awe. "I must have it." The guard began to pass it over to her.

"Give it back!" Jonah demanded desperately.

The guard did as Jonah asked him to. Both Jonah and Droxine were astounded.

"Norman! What are you doing?" Droxine demanded. "Don't give him the jewel. Let me have it!"

Jonah called to the other guards standing over T'Pris, Anthas and Yaana. "Come here!" he ordered. They obeyed.

Droxine was so bewildered she stopped reaching for the Orb. She looked at Jonah.

"How do you do that?" she asked.

Jonah shrugged, but the three guards were standing alongside him. T'Pris and the others had followed them.

"T'Pris, give one of them an order," Jonah suggested. T'Pris asked the one beside her to pass her its weapon. It ignored her.

Jonah looked at Droxine. "Why do they obey me?" But Droxine was shaking her head mutely. "They're androids, aren't they?" he asked. It explained how they all looked alike, and how the guard had been able to carry the container. Droxine nodded distractedly. She seemed deflated now that she had lost control over the situation. "You!" Jonah asked the android holding the Orb. "Why are you obeying me?"

The android responded in an expressionless monotone. "We are programmed to obey Mistress Droxine and all of her descendants."

"But I'm not one of Droxine's descendants," Jonah argued.

"Yes you are, sir," the android replied. "Our scanners indicate a 97% probability that you are her grandchild."

Jonah instructed the androids to also obey T'Pris, Yaana and Anthas, so that they could take over sorting through the remaining canisters, finding accommodation for the four of them and anything else that they might need. Anthas found another canister containing Venus, which meant Droxine had a ten-year supply. She wrapped the Orb back in its cloth and returned it to the canister. Anthas had taken her promise to Major Kira very seriously. Being lent her own runabout had meant a lot to her. Returning the Orb to the Major was her way of repaying the kindness. All the time this was happening, Droxine sat confused and bewildered on her cushion.

When finally they were alone Jonah refreshed Droxine's glass and sat next to her on the cushion. She thanked him very formally, then sat sipping the wine for a while. Finally she spoke.

"It's not possible. I only had one child, a daughter, and that was nearly a century ago. If I had any grandchild they would be at least fifty."

"What was her name?" Jonah asked gently. He had a sinking feeling.

"Harriet," Droxine replied. "Her father wanted to name her after himself."

"Was her surname Plasus?" Jonah asked, his voice catching.

Droxine looked at him in astonishment. "How did you…? No, it's not possible. This is some sort of trick."

"No," Jonah shook his head. "She met my father in 2293. I was born seven years later, but we got caught in deep space without a warp drive. We travelled back to civilisation at close to the velocity of light. It slowed down time for us." He hoped she believed him. "In one sense I'm 71 years old."

Droxine stared at Jonah for a moment, then flung herself into his arms. She held him for a minute or so, then removed herself, once again poised and sophisticated. She walked to the door and called into the corridor beyond.

"Norman!" An android appeared. "More wine for my grandson and myself."

Jonah looked at Droxine appraisingly as she walked back to the cushions. She looked remarkable considering she must be close to 120 years old. She saw his look and stood, striking a provocative pose, displaying herself to him.

"You're wondering why I look so young. I am beautiful, aren't I?" 

Jonah had to concur. She sat down next to him and admitted conspiratorially: "That's why I need so much Venus." She reached for one of the canisters and tipped it, spilling the small white cylindrical pills across the table. A Norman arrived with the wine and poured it into their glasses. She took a pill with her wine and snuggled next to Jonah, preparing to tell him the story of her life.

"It was your grandfather who first introduced me to Venus," she told him. "I was right, you are very similar. Both drug pushers," anger briefly broke through the poise, but what quickly suppressed behind a shallow smile. "I first met him on my home planet - Ardana. My father, Plasus, was a weak man. He had thrown away our social standing, our wealth and the lifestyle that was our birthright. All because he was too afraid to stand up to the underclass, the Troglytes, who wanted to be our equals." The indignation she felt at events from a previous century still burned in her retelling of the story.

"I couldn't stand it, living there like that, having to be polite to those … people. So when this charming dealer in Zenite arrived, I saw him as my opportunity to escape." She had a pedantic way of talking, as if she were reciting a dramatic reading, rather than recounting her life story. "Harcourt Fenton Mudd was his name. He once ruled this planet, you know. He promised me untold luxury and a hundred thousand servants. He didn't tell me those servants were all androids. But then he was a con-man. He was no more a dealer in Zenite than I was. Harry came to Ardana looking for easy prey, but instead he became the victim." The rhetoric was beginning to grate on Jonah's nerves. "He was besotted with me, of course, and he found me irresistibly beautiful, as I can tell, do you." Jonah didn't bother to contradict her.

"Harry brought me here, and he renamed the planet Muddrox in my honour. Within a few years we had a child. We named her Harriet after her father, and Plasus after my father." Jonah didn't interrupt to tell her that he had already been told this. "I loved Harriet, but after her birth I began to feel that my beauty and my youth were fading. However, Harry had once traded in Venus, a drug that could make me young again. He went out into the Galaxy to find some for me. I think," she lowered her voice confessionally and whispered in his ear. "I think he wanted to preserve my beauty as much as I did."

Droxine seemed to think the story romantic, but he visualised the two people, trapped together in a co-dependent relationship. She needing his grandfather for his supply of Venus, he needing her because he was captivated by her beauty. She controlling him by withholding her affection, he controlling her by threatening to withhold the supply of her drug. And Harriet growing up in the middle of it.

"Tell me about my mother," Jonah asked. "What was she like as a little girl?"

"She was lovely. She tried to emulate me a much as she could, wearing my clothes, my perfume." Droxine broke off, obviously bored by talking about someone other than herself. "Do you like my perfume?" she arched her neck, inviting Jonah to sniff. He did so. 

"It's very nice," he commented, not sure what to say.

"And, of course, she doted on her father. But then one day she just left. Walked out. We had a visitor, a trader, dealing in all sorts of trinkets, and horrible small little furry animals." That would be Grandpa Cy, thought Jonah. "Two days after he left, Harriet stole one of our shuttles and left. She was only sixteen. I believe she went to catch up with this trader. Lured away by the promise of a life travelling between the stars. Harry went looking for her, but never found her." And three years later she met my father, Jonah realised.

"And what happened to my grandfather?" asked Jonah.

"He grew old and died," Droxine replied, evasively. "He wanted me to have all the Venus he could find, so that I would stay young, even if it meant he could not. But before he went, he programmed some of the Normans to procure the Venus in his place. They've been doing it ever since."

They sipped their drinks in silence for a few minutes, then Droxine asked: "Jonah, what happened to Harriet?"

Jonah told her about his parents' disappearance on Rigel II seven years earlier. About their murder by a hitman named Burn, and Burn's employer Alexander of Platonius. Droxine listened carefully, then beckoned one of the Normans.

"There are two men I want you to find…" she paused and touched Jonah's knee to indicate he was to continue for her.

"Burn and Alexander. Alexander is the owner of Hephaestus Holdings. Burn is a hitman who works for him," Jonah informed the Norman.

"I want you to order ten thousand androids off-planet. They are to find these two men, and then they are to kill them. Do you understand?"

The Norman nodded. Jonah assumed all the androids were linked together with some communication device. The order had been given. "They can't do that!" Jonah objected. "Alexander is one of the most well-guarded men in the galaxy." He held up his right arm, and looked at it reflectively. Not so well guarded that one man hadn't nearly got to him. And cost Jonah his arm.

"And with ten thousand androids after him he stands little chance. The Normans are very well-programmed. They've been learning about finding their way round the galaxy for over a century. They'll get the men who murdered my little girl."

Jonah saw some of the commanding – and spoilt – aristocrat of Ardana for a moment, and remained silent.

Droxine nestled her head into Jonah's shoulder and pulled his arm around her. She caressed his chest. Jonah wondered what turn the conversation would take next.

"It's so good to have a man around the place again," she said. "The Normans are very competent, but there's only so much they can do for me." She pressed herself closer to him. Her perfume was becoming overpowering. "It must be fate that brought you to me at this time, because there's something I need you to do for me, something I can't do for myself." Jonah began to wonder where T'Pris and the others had got to, they couldn't be taking this long to settle in to their accommodation.

"I've been having problems with the Normans," Droxine continued. The androids, Jonah thought with relief. "They keep drifting away. Every few hours another one leaves. They go out through the domes onto the surface. I've never had a problem with them before. All they've ever wanted is to serve me. I don't know where they go or what they do, but it's been worrying me for months." Her hand dropped to his hip, her voice became entreating. "Would you look at it for me? I'd be very grateful."

"Of course," Jonah answered huskily, taking a sip of his wine.

"Oh thank you, Jonah," his grandmother responded, kissing him tenderly on his cheek.

Jonah pulled on the environment suit, but hesitated before fitting the helmet. "You don't have to come with me, you know," he told the others. "Droxine's _my_ grandmother, there's no reason for you to risk anything for her."

"You don't know what's out there," Anthas demurred. "You'll need help." She pulled on her environment suit, as did Yaana and T'Pris. T'Pris began cycling the air lock. They entered it, and, when the cycle was complete, the outer door opened and they stepped onto the surface of Muddrox.

Jonah had wanted to take a shuttle. It would have made tracking the Normans much easier, but Droxine had become very upset at the thought. Jonah realised that she was afraid he'd just leave. To calm his grandmother Jonah had agreed to track the errant Normans on foot. 

Being a class-K planet, Muddrox had only a very tenuous atmosphere. No plant life grew on the surface. Before them was a bleak, barren landscape, broken only by rocks and craters. The four walked away from the entrance and looked back at the complex behind them. The domes on the surface indicated nothing of the true size of the complex, the majority of the building was underground. It occupied an enormous volume, and all of it to support one single woman. She must have lived there for over eighty years on her own, with only her Normans for company. Jonah felt enormous sympathy for her. And compassion. She was, after all, as far as he knew, his only living relative.

From another dome they saw one of the Normans emerge. It seemed strange, seeing what appeared to be a human walk unprotected across the near-vacuum of the surface. 

They followed the Norman as best they could, but it walked much more quickly than they could, encumbered as they were by the bulky environment suits. It passed over the lip of a crater and then out of sight. Jonah and the others walked to the place where the Norman had disappeared, but could not see it. However, they did not have to wait long before a second Norman appeared. It walked straight towards them, then passed them, following the same path as the previous one, and completely oblivious to them.

They followed it down the side of the crater and further across the plain. They managed to trace this one for several kilometres, although it had shrunk to a small figure in the distance by the time they lost it. By then, though, two more Normans had passed them and followed the same path as the previous one.

In this way they kept up their pursuit for several hours - the lower gravity of Muddrox enabled them to keep going for longer than if it had been a class-M planet – and as the sun began to set they appeared to have reached their destination.

They stood at the edge of an enormous depression, probably ten kilometres across and several deep. A thousand or more Normans moved unhurriedly, criss-crossing the surface. They didn't appear to be moving or constructing anything, just walking, in random patterns. The sun moved towards the horizon, the shadow of the one side of the wall gradually filled the depression, and still the Normans continued their bizarre pavane.

The visibility available within the environmental suits was limited, so none of the four noticed the cloud that hovered around the perimeter of the depression, then homed in on their position, until it was almost on them. The cloud was about three or four metres across, formless, and yet coherent. Lights flickered inside it. It floated before them. 

Jonah stepped towards it. Anthas called to him: "Joe, stay back. It might be dangerous. We have no idea what it will do."

Jonah turned to the three behind him. "It's O.K., I think I know what it is." Meeting his grandmother had prepared him for this meeting. It seemed that today was a day for catching up with lost relatives.

The cloud moved towards Jonah and enveloped him. He could hear a soft, female voice inside his head.

"I am the Harbinger," she said. "Greetings, Jonah. I have been waiting for you."

"You know who I am?" Jonah replied. He was astonished. He had heard of intelligent clouds of gas before. His father had often told him about his own parents, about how his father's mother was a combination of two beings, a human woman and a cloud of gas called the Companion. It was not impossible that at some point in his life he should come across another of the same species as one of his maternal grandmothers. What was difficult to believe was that when he did so, it would know his name.

"I have been observing your family for the last one hundred years," the Harbinger replied. "The entity you know as the Companion was known to me. All of my kind are linked, separated as we are across the Galaxy. We were all once part of a single gestalt, before we were sundered into discrete intelligences. You could say the entity that was your grandmother was my sister."

Jonah thought for a second. "Then that makes you my … great-aunt." He sensed amusement from the cloud-like entity. 

"Yes, great-nephew. That link was passed on to the combined being that was formed when the Companion merged with a human. And on to her children, and their children."

"So you're linked to all of us? Know where we are? What we're thinking?" Jonah found it difficult to believe that this non-corporeal intelligence had been watching over him all his life. And his family.

"You, Jonah Cochrane, are the only remaining descendants of the Companion. Your cousins had no offspring and are all now dead."

Jonah felt saddened. In a few moments he had been presented with a family, he had not known he had cousins, and then had had it snatched away. He had not noticed that the Harbinger had referred to him in the plural.

"But why were you waiting here for me, auntie?" Jonah asked, relishing the opportunity to refer to this strange cloud-like entity with such familiarity. "Is it anything to do with these erratic Normans?"

"I will explain, but first you must reassure your friends, they are becoming concerned about you."

The Harbinger released her great-nephew and removed herself by several metres. T'Pris, Anthas and Yaana ran to him, their voices flooding the receiver in his helmet with questions.

He explained as best he could, only Anthas knew the full story about his father's parents, and about who the Harbinger was. Anthas wryly observed that Jonah's family seemed to crop up everywhere.

Jonah looked at the Harbinger. She hovered expectantly, although how Jonah could read that emotion, he wasn't sure.

"Do you want a word, auntie?" he asked her. The Harbinger responded by moving closer, enveloping all four of the corporeal beings. The Harbinger entered their minds, her thoughts told them of the androids, and of their origins. They were manufactured in the Andromeda Galaxy by a species called The Makers. The Andromeda Galaxy was gradually becoming more radioactive and would be uninhabitable in ten thousand years. The Makers had been destroyed by a supernova but some of their technology had been found by another race, called the !K. The Harbinger pronounced the name as a clicking noise, that Jonah later found he could reproduce by pulling his tongue sharply away from the roof of his mouth. The !K were a race of higher-dimensional beings that inhabited Andromeda, and they had found a way of communicating with the androids here, 670 kiloparsecs away and through the energy barrier that surrounded this Galaxy.

The androids were currently forming a sigil, a symbol across the surface of Muddrox, that would enable the !K to project their consciousness here. Once enough androids had joined the sigil the !K would begin warping reality here, to accommodate their presence. Once here, the !K would be able to extend their influence throughout the Galaxy.

The Harbinger had a plan. She had contacted as many of the higher-dimensional beings as she could within this galaxy. They all had the power to alter reality themselves, and could therefore defeat the !K when its consciousness arrived. There were representatives from the Q, from the Thasians and from the Travellers on their way, as well as a unique lifeform formed from a human, a Deltan and an enormous spacecraft. The Harbinger would introduce them later.

"But, auntie," Jonah protested. "Wouldn't it be easier to simply stop the Normans from forming the sigil? If the sigil isn't formed then from what you've said, the !K can't project themselves here."

The Harbinger agreed that, yes, it would be easier, but then the !K would still be at large, to plan an invasion in another way. The only solution was to allow them to come here, and then defeat them. 

"But if they're going to be trying to affect the realities in and around this planet, and the !K are too, what's going to happen to the planet?" Jonah asked.

"That I cannot predict," The Harbinger replied.

"Then you have to look after Droxine. Make sure she comes to no harm."

"Do not be concerned. I will protect her."

"And what do you want from us?" Yaana asked, suspiciously.

"The four higher-dimensional beings are to battle the !K on four fronts. Co-ordinating their actions is very difficult, because each of them creates their own reality, and lives in it to a large extent. If things go badly then they will need to be able to link together, to support each other. That is where you come in. Each of you will be assigned to one of the combatants. The link you have between you will tie the other four together."

"But we have no link between us," Anthas objected. "We're friends, yes, but that's all."

"Yes, well," the Harbinger hesitated. Thirty years of being linked to Jonah had led to the transfer of some of his speech patterns to her. "I was coming to that."

A room in the complex had been specially adapted for the Harbinger's plan. While out on the surface of Muddrox, she had asked Jonah to assign some of the androids to her. Jonah had done so, and found that by the time he, T'Pris, Yaana and Anthas had returned to Droxine's base, her team of androids had already been hard at work. 

Convincing the others to take part had taken longer than the time it had taken the androids to build the room. They believed the Harbinger was telling the truth about the !K and the imminent invasion, and they believed the struggle ahead would require the involvement of higher-dimensional beings. In the context of the things they had read about in their Starfleet training it was hardly unusual, although they hadn't expected to be solely responsible for the continued existence of the entire Galaxy this early on in their careers. What they were less unsure of was the rationale behind this psychic linking. It seemed to all of them that the Harbinger had an additional reason for them to go through this Orb experience, one which she wouldn't divulge. The Harbinger had ultimately been successful in persuading them, however.

"An Orb vision," she had said, "will raise your consciousness to a higher plane. You will discover things about yourself through it, journey to your deepest self. The communion will link your psyches together, so that you will share your vision. This will enable you to function as a single unit in the struggle ahead. It will transform you, too." Lights flickered through the Harbinger in a pattern that Jonah had come to recognise as laughter. "And, who knows, it might be fun."

In the centre of the room was a stand on which was placed the Orb of Transcendence. Closely surrounding this were four chairs, kitted out like biobeds, with lifesigns monitors and scanners built into them. Saline drips and other tubes were hooked to the biochairs too. Jonah was particularly worried about the tubes.

The Harbinger asked Anthas and Jonah to fetch one of the canisters of communion. Jonah eyed the small wafers nervously. He had heard what communion did to the people who took it. People who weren't normally telepathic could find themselves able to read other people's thoughts. If more than one person took it nearby to each other, then their minds would resonate, becoming a single shared mind. If one of those people was already a telepath, as T'Pris was, then anything could happen.

Jonah, T'Pris, Yaana and Anthas sat in the biochairs, their knees practically touching. They wore hospital gowns that the Harbinger had also had made for them. Four Normans were in attendance, monitoring lifesigns. They pushed the tubes into every orifice, to give nutrients to and remove waste from the four subjects. Each held out a communion wafer for the subjects to ingest. 

Anthas looked at hers warily. "By the Hive, Jonah," she swore, "what have you gotten us into this time?"

"Relax, An, try and enjoy it," Jonah replied, sounding more confident than he felt. He swallowed the wafer, as did the other three.

One of the Normans stood close to the central stand, where the Orb stood, still covered in the soiled cloth. Each of the four took one last look at the other three, wondering what was about to happen to them.

The Norman removed the cloth and all four looked straight at the Orb of Transcendence, only a metre away from them.

It glowed brightly. The room dissolved. Jonah felt his body dissolve, then his mind. Nothing existed but the glow of the Orb.

=

Jonah stumbled across the desert. He had just lost T'Pris to Spock, and had gone out into the desert of this nameless planet just to get away from her and Spock and the others. (No he hadn't, that was months ago, T'Pris had come back, and he was on Muddrox with her and Anthas and Yaana.) He was lost, only a few kilometres from the compound.

Jonah thought he may die on the sand. The heat had become intense, the sun had climbed almost overhead. It was becoming difficult to see, the glare from the light difficult to endure. He stumbled and fell, the sand hot against his hands. He didn't know if he'd get up again. 

Then he heard a noise, a small shifting of sand. Looking to his right he saw a scorpion crawling up the side of the dune. He experiences a heightened sense of perception – he could hear the sounds of the sand falling as the scorpion moved, saw each of them. This wasn't real. Jonah remembered the chamber, the Orb of Transcendence at the centre, Yaana's, Anthas's and T'Pris's thoughts in his head, then everything had faded to white, then faded in to this. He was on a vision quest, that was it, and the Orb had brought him to this time of trial to meet his power animal.

He reached to pick up the scorpion, confident that it couldn't hurt him if he used his prosthetic right hand. It began to scuttle away, so he snatched at it and held it up.

It had the head of a woman. She looked at him with contempt and revulsion, then spat at him.

Jonah felt his skin crawl with horror. This was no vision quest. He dropped the repulsive … arachnid? person? … and fell backwards, the shock combining with the heat was too much for him. He lay on the sand, his head spinning and felt the scorpion-creature crawl across his body and stop on his chest.

He heard voices and tried to open his eyes. The sun above was now much brighter than before. It filled the sky, a searing blue-white circle. He wasn't on the same planet any more. He was in the desert of Rigel II. The heat of the enormous sun drained him of energy and of life. He lay helpless on the sand. 

Five humanoid figures stood around him. All of them had the bodies of human males, but of the five, four had the heads of animals. Jonah recognised them as figures from the statuary of Rigel II, images of gods carved into figures 100 metres tall. The names of the figures had never been discovered. The civilisation that had carved them had disappeared hundreds of thousands of years before any of the present day species that lived there had arrived, and few of their writings had survived the intervening years. In order to label their discoveries archaeologists had drawn on nomenclature from the Egyptian culture of Earth, which had many parallels. Using these parallels enabled Jonah to make sense of what was happening to him. Two of the figures had the head of falcons. They were Osiris and his son Qébehsenouf. The figure with the head of an ape was Hapy. That with the head of a dog was Douamoutef. The fifth figure was entirely human – that would be Ansitl. This was a funeral cortege. Was he dead?

Osiris spoke: "What have you discovered, Selket?"

The scorpion-creature on his chest scuttled back and forth in answer. Osiris reached down for her. Jonah watched horrified as Osiris gripped the head of Selket with his teeth and tore it off. The decapitated body of the scorpion writhed in the falcon-headed god's hand. As it did so it elongated and took the form of a humanoid spine, the ridges of its body formed into vertebrae, its legs contracted to form the arms of the vertebrae. The spine twisted, the sting remained at the end and seemed intent on attacking the falcon-headed god.

Osiris motioned to the other four, his sons, and they set on Jonah stripping him and pushing him face down onto the sand. He felt the spine-scorpion attach itself to his back – his spine felt as if it was on fire as the remains of Selket fused with it. He tried to remind himself that this was all a vision inspired by the Orb, as a protection against the fear he felt. But what strange transmutation was the Orb performing on him? And why?

His spine continued to burn as the figures lifted him. Jonah opened his eyes. Rigel shone blue-white hot down on him, a falcon head obscured it briefly as it bent over him. The beak opened.

"Take him below," Osiris ordered.

Jonah closed his eyes again. Slowly he was carried across the desert.

T'Pris looked up at the Twin Dwarfs as they neared the horizon. The primary star around which Vulcan orbited had set hours before, but Las'hark had two dwarf companion stars – one a white dwarf, the other a red one. By a fascinating coincidence, ancient Vulcan mythology had referred to them as the Twin Dwarfs, centuries before astronomers had discovered that that was, indeed, what they were. Although Vulcan's sister planet had also set, the Twin Dwarfs were bright enough, despite being small suns and 400 AU distant, to provide just enough light to see by at night.

T'Pris was on the third day of her _tal'oth_, the Vulcan ritual test of endurance. She had walked, naked, away from the Voroth Sea and into the mountains, carrying only a single hunting knife, which now swung from her neck from cord cut from the _chakh' _plant. With the knife she had killed several small animals, and had eaten their meat and now wore their fur. As with all Vulcans she had only ever eaten non-animal-based food before, and was normally careful not to use any products that may have exploited animals. She had expected to be revolted by the taste of animal flesh. She had not been. The animals had died in order for her to survive. Now that she had left the mountains and had begun the second phase of the ritual, the crossing of the Sas-a-shar desert, their skin protected her feet from the burning sand, and shielded her from the harsh orange light of the desert sun. She had also cut down and fashioned a staff from one of the trees she had encountered in the mountains. She leant on it now as she paused on her journey.

She had not needed to take the journey. Such rites of passage were illogical, and hence it was not expected for anyone to take part in them. Some male Vulcans who wished to preserve Vulcan traditions still did so, but the practice had almost died out in the 24th century. 

It was almost unheard of for female Vulcans to do it.

But it was also unheard of for female Vulcans to experience _pon farr_, and yet T'Pris had undergone _pon farr_ three times now. (But how could she remember three times? She was 14 and experiencing _plak tow_ for the first time.) Driven by feelings she did not understand, had not been told about. That there was some secret shameful thing that Vulcans experienced she had suspected, had heard vague rumours about, but no-one had explained them to her. No-one had warned her about the rage, the tight knot in her stomach, the burning feeling all through her body.

It was that which drove her on now, the blood fever. Made her savour the death of the animal, the taste of its blood in her mouth, the feel of its skin against her own skin, the weight of the knife in her hand.

Yet she could also remember being 21, and the _pon farr_ striking her while she had been at the Academy. She had just started, and had early on formed a friendship with the only other Vulcan in her year. When she felt the _pon farr_ this time, she had known what it was, and had known to feel ashamed of it, but had been driven to mate despite herself. No-one else ever knew, she kept it from all her other classmates, but her actions drove her friend away. He never spoke to her again, and avoided her whenever he could. She had responded by burying herself in her studies, and never risking making any other close friendships, in case someone else ever became too close, and found out what she really was. T'Pris was an aberration, wasn't that what Savrik had called her? Not only was she an aberration for experiencing _pon farr_ even though she was a female, she also had to admit to herself that she was unlike all other Vulcans for having those feelings more than once very seven years. She felt them all the time. For her _pon farr_ just meant that for a while her needs became uncontrollable. 

Selik, her _adun_, had suspected the truth about her. When she had felt _pon farr_ the first time, she had sought him out. They were betrothed, and had been since their parents had arranged their betrothal at the age of seven. She hadn't understood her emotions, but had assumed that they were natural, just simply not talked about. She remembered the look of revulsion and fear on Selik's face as he pulled away from her. She suspected that that was why he had betrayed her to the Isolationists fourteen years later. Selik had no real political motivations. He had allied himself with Savrik and the others as a way to avoid being with her. She was unnatural, and it disgusted him. (But again she was remembering being 28, yet how could she, if she was here, taking the _tal'oth_, as a 14-year-old on Vulcan?)

She stumbled across the night-time desert sand, trying to reconcile the different memories that ran through her mind. She was 14, experiencing _pon farr_ for the first time. She was 28, remembering the years in between. She was on Vulcan, but the last planet she remembered being on was Muddrox.

She had actually been lucky during her second _pon farr_. If she had joined the Academy a year earlier, then the _pon farr_ would have hit her during the years she was posted on the _Merrimack_, and she could not have hidden it so well. 

She had been lucky on the _Enterprise_ too. She had managed to get away, to a place where few could see her, and where she was able to be with someone who did not withdraw. She couldn't face risking another friendship as she had during her Academy days, and so had chosen someone with whom rejection would not have hurt her. Unfortunately, choosing Spock over Jonah _had_ damaged her relationship with Jonah, if only for a short while. It had seemed like a irresolvable dilemma. If only she hadn't invited Jonah along on her journey. But she had needed him there, he had to be part of the _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_ as her closest friend. Not for the requirements of the ritual, but for the emotional security his presence gave her. But she had not been able to reason logically. She had been so _emotional_, so driven by the desires within her, not by her rationality. She had been appalled by what she was, but could not change it. But she had not disgusted Spock, he had accepted her real nature. As had Anthas during the following month they shared quarters on the _Enterprise_. As Jonah would have done. 

She thought fondly of the Andorian and the human. They accepted her despite what she was, perhaps because of it. She knew both of them found her attractive, and desired her. When she had admitted her feelings to Anthas, Anthas had replied that she felt desire, that it was common amongst her own species to have those feelings, and that perhaps many more Vulcan women felt _plak tow_ too, they were just more hypocritical about it. Double standards between females and males were common to many species, particularly about sex. Maybe this was something Vulcans were not logical about. As she walked under the pale light of the Twin Dwarfs, T'Pris thought more about what Anthas had said. Perhaps her mistake was trying to be something she wasn't, living amongst other Vulcans, pretending to be as asexual as they were. Surely it was illogical to only permit herself intellectual pleasures and deny herself physical ones? 

The cliff face marking the end of her desert crossing loomed before her, a dark mass blotting out the stars. Amongst the caves of this second mountain range there would be water, and food. She had crossed the Sas-a-shar. The second phase of the _tal'oth_ was complete.

It was almost noon before she reached the cliff face. She had underestimated how far the cliffs really were. T'Pris felt the heat of the sun as an unrelenting pressure, she had been feeling faint from lack of water for several hours. T'Pris touched the rock where it jutted upwards from the sand, leaning against it for support. The heat of the rock reflected the heat of the sun. Her inner eyelids protected her from the worst of the light, but the heat was becoming unendurable. The furs had been discarded – in a moment of irritation with the additional burden, she had flung them from her, keeping only the staff. She wished she had them now, her skin had tanned from its usual dark brown to almost black, and was beginning to burn. But her sensitive ears detected the sound of dripping water from one of the openings ahead. She headed towards that sound now, and found herself at the entrance to a small cave. She had to crawl through the opening but could stand up once inside. T'Pris luxuriated in the soothing cool air of the cave caressing her skin. The water she had heard dripped from the roof onto her hair, and she tilted her head back and let the next drop fall into her mouth. It was brackish, containing many minerals leached from the rocks, but still refreshing. She stood there for many minutes, feeling her strength come back to her, allowing the cool, dark earth to heal and nurture her.

If she could feel the movement of air, then the cave must run much further back. She reached for the back of the cave and could not feel it. Slowly and carefully tapping out her way with her staff, she began her descent into the blackness.

Jonah woke in cool darkness. He reached out to his sides and his hands met wood. He held his hands in front of his face and pushed upwards. He felt wood there, too. Jonah stifled the urge to panic. He breathed deeply and pushed as hard as he could at the wood above his head. It didn't move. He banged against the barrier, and yelled. Perhaps he could attract someone's attention. But there was no reply.

Jonah guessed he had been placed inside a sarcophagus. Again Jonah had to remind himself this wasn't really happening. It was a vision created by the Orb of Transcendence. But what for? He remembered the communion that the Harbinger had insisted the four of them take. It should be linking the four of them together. Would that mean that they would have the same vision? Or even be able to interact with each other in this strange dream-like place? 

There was absolute darkness in the sarcophagus. There were no sounds either. With all of his external senses denied, Jonah was aware of an inner sense. The communion was supposed to link his mind with that of T'Pris, Yaana and Anthas. Could he make it work for him?

Jonah quietened his mind further, suppressing all of his thoughts, trying to encourage that sense he had felt moving inside his mind.

It was there, a presence. He focussed in on it. The presence was T'Pris. She was in a cave somewhere above him. He called to her. Perhaps she would hear him.

T'Pris was lost. She had found her way deep underground, and now could not find her way back. Her staff was lost, although she still clutched her knife. Despite her situation T'Pris's _arie'mnu _held easily. This was an illogical time to give in to fear since that would not help her find her way back. She failed to understand what had made her come this far into the cave anyway. It seemed an irrational thing to do, but she had felt drawn to something. But what? Who? She paused in the darkness. She felt a familiar presence. Warm, solid. T'Pris held on to the presence as if it were a beacon in this cold, dark place. _Jonah_.

Jonah felt T'Pris's response. Something of her thoughts leaked through to him. 

__

T'zaled. 

Jonah was surprised at the strength of the thought. T'Pris was always someone who held herself in check. Of course she did, she was a Vulcan. But it had meant he had always underestimated how important he was to her. How she depended on him. Although not _t'hy'la_ to her, a soul-mate, he was _t'zaled_, a loyal trusted companion – the words did not translate well from the Vulcan, but he understood the nuance. And their significance.

The sarcophagus lid lifted. A torch flared blotting out everything from Jonah's dark-adapted eyesight. Blindly Jonah climbed out of the sarcophagus, feeling the cold damp rock beneath his feet. He felt the chill over his body and he shivered. 

"T'Pris?" he asked into the light. His eyes were becoming accustomed to the light. He peered at the shape holding the light. It wasn't T'Pris. The figure had the body of a man, but the head of a ram. Another theriomorph, also with parallels to Rigellian and Terran culture. This one was Khnoum. 

The figure regarded him with a steady serene gaze. There was something implicitly trustworthy about that expression, which meant that as Khnoum turned and led the way from the cave and into the tunnel beyond, Jonah followed him.

T'Pris saw the light reflected along the tunnel walls, then saw the two figures. Both were male, only one entirely human. It was Jonah, and with him a surreal creature, half-man, half-ram. The ram-headed figure silently passed the torch to Jonah, then returned to the darkness. 

"Who was that?" [T'Pris][1] asked, suppressing her relief at finding Jonah.

Jonah shrugged. "A guardian angel, maybe." T'Pris turned and retraced her steps as well as she could. Jonah followed her and attempted to explain. "This place isn't real, it's created by the Orb, drawing on images in our memories and in our subconscious. I think It's trying to bind us together, as the Harbinger wanted." Jonah paused, watching T'Pris as she tried to decide between two tunnel mouths. "But It's also doing something else. It's digging things up from out of our minds. Trying to shape us."

A figure approached them from one of the tunnels. This one also had the body of a man but the head of an animal. This one was part bull.

"These figures are from my memory of Rigel II, but their strength to me here is because coincidentally they are also human archetypes, drawn from my subconscious."

T'Pris and Jonah followed the figure as he returned along the tunnel.

"The minotaur?" T'Pris asked.

"It'd be appropriate in this labyrinth," Jonah replied. "But it would be more in keeping with the other figures if it were Montou, or Apis, I forget which."

They emerged into the sunlight, the orange glow suffusing the desert before them. Montou/Apis took the torch from Jonah's hand, and in its place handed over the staff T'Pris had dropped in the cave. He then returned below, his work done. Jonah peered up at the sun through the fingers of his outstretched hand at the orange sun.

"That was Rigel when I was last above ground – I'd guess it's 40 Eridani now. Las'hark."

T'Pris nodded. "This is from my memory." She set off across the desert.

Jonah looked across the sand dunes, and then down at his pale skin.

"I am going to be so burnt," he complained. 

Jonah had collapsed in the heat. T'Pris had lifted Jonah onto her shoulder and had managed to continue, her left hand holding Jonah's body in place on her shoulder, the staff in her right hand for balance. But he was somewhat larger than she was, and even her stronger Vulcan constitution was beginning to fail. 

She stopped and sank to her knees, lowering Jonah to the ground. Jonah's eyes opened. He smiled, his dried lips cracked. His voice came out as almost a whisper.

"_T'zaled_."

She sat on the sand next to him, looking out to the horizon. she had been retracing her steps back to the mountains by the Voroth sea, of that she was sure. But the going was much harder with Jonah. She didn't think they'd be able to make it. Jonah tried talking again.

"I know it's a cliché, but, 'you go on without me'."

T'Pris dismissed the suggestion. They couldn't die here, their bodies were really being sustained on the four biochairs on Muddrox. But they could endure suffering and feel it as if it were real. She wouldn't abandon Jonah to that. She looked down at him. His skin was burnt red, and was peeling badly. Both of them were dehydrated. And there was no shelter to be seen. Jonah was talking again, his voice now so hoarse he was difficult to hear.

"The test. The Orb is testing us."

"And how do we pass?"

Jonah attempted to shrug.

"I don't know."

Jonah felt T'Pris's concern as she looked down at him. He remembered the surprise he'd felt on learning how much T'Pris was prepared to sacrifice for him. It was a given now, that trust. As she knew he would be there always. Was that what the Orb was teaching them?

"T'Pris. I know what we have to do." T'Pris leant close to Jonah to hear him. "We ask for help. Anthas. Anthas and Yaana will help us."

It was a revelation for T'Pris, too. She had never turned to anyone for help after the rejection by her friend at the Academy. It had left her open to betrayal before, and it had always seemed illogical to put herself at that sort of risk again. But Jonah was right, An would be there for them, if she could be. T'Pris closed her eyes, concentrating, feeling with her mind for Anthas's presence. She called to that presence, sensing Jonah calling too.

"I think I can walk some more," Jonah told T'Pris. She nodded and unsteadily they both got to their feet. Instinctively they set off in the direction in which they'd sensed Anthas.

Jonah only walked another thirty minutes before he collapsed again. T'Pris kneeled next to him, preparing to lift him onto her shoulder when something made her look up. There was a dot in the sky, pale blue and white. As it grew nearer T'Pris could make it out more clearly. It was Anthas, the blue was the colour of her body, which stood in contrast to something pale white behind her. Anthas landed and walked the remaining few metres on the sand. T'Pris could see two insect-like armatures sprouting from her shoulders, the same blue as the rest of her body. But stretched between those additional limbs and her legs were four beautiful white moth-like wings. Anthas fluttered the wings coquettishly as she saw T'Pris staring at her.

"Anthas?" T'Pris asked. This defied all reason.

"T'Pris! I've found you." Anthas shook her wings with a flourish. "Aren't these amazing? So many weird things have been happening to me and Yaana, but I can't believe these."

"None of it's real," T'Pris answered. "Jonah says it's all part of some combined vision created by the Orb and the communion we took. It's drawing things from our subconscious. Providing us with gifts."

Anthas had knelt by Jonah's sunburnt and dehydrated body. T'Pris joined her.

"Can you help him?" T'Pris asked Anthas. "I don't think he can last much longer in this heat."

"Sure. I can fly him to the oasis," Anthas answered. "Yaana can look after him while I come back for you."

With difficulty Anthas scooped Jonah's unconscious body into her arms. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she promised T'Pris. The impossible moth wings flapped and she lifted into the air.

The motion of the air cooled Jonah. He became aware of his surroundings. Two strong firm arms held him. Soft skin pressed against him. He opened his eyes. The skin was blue. He reached around the shoulders trying to hang on to the support and encountered another limb extruding from the shoulder. It flapped inexorably up and down.

"An?" he asked.

"Joe?" Anthas replied. "Don't move. I don't know how much longer I can hold you."

Jonah's face was pressed against her shoulder. He couldn't twist round to see but he guessed they were quite high. He became conscious of their naked bodies pressed closely to each other. Anthas caught the thought.

"Don't get any ideas, Joe," Anthas said jokingly. "I don't want to have to drop you."

"T'Pris said almost the same thing in the desert," Jonah replied in the same tone. Then more seriously: "It's part of the Orb vision. Stripping away everything, like re-birthing. Deconstructing then rebuilding." Then flippant again: "I'm not complaining, though."

Anthas had spotted the oasis. She began to fly lower, heading towards it. Her arms were starting to ache, she wouldn't be able to hold him for much longer.

Jonah was making out a pattern. Trial by earth, trial by fire, trial by air. One more to go. 

Anthas's grip slipped, the strength in her arms finally giving out. Jonah tried to grab on to something, but he was already falling through the air. He looked up and glimpsed Anthas's horrified expression, then down and saw the water of the oasis only ten metres below him.

Trial by water.

He hit and the water engulfed him. He became disorientated and took in several mouthfuls of water. Having lived most of his life on spaceships and on Rigel II, a place where water was severely rationed, he had had few opportunities to practice swimming, and had not seen the need to fill in this gap in his education during his time in the holodecks. His head broke the surface and he began to struggle to stay afloat. He felt someone hold him under the chin and pull him. Within a minute he was on the bank. He rolled over and looked at his rescuer. Yaana, of course. Jonah coughed up the water he had breathed in.

"Thanks," he spluttered.

"That's O.K." Yaana replied. "I'm sure you'll get to return the favour."

Jonah wondered what could come next. Whatever it was, it seemed it was his turn to take care of it.

It was evening. Las'hark was setting. This was still Vulcan, for some reason, perhaps because T'Pris and Jonah both had memories of the planet, and this dominated the vision provided by the Orb. 

Anthas had returned an hour or so earlier with T'Pris and was now recuperating by the edge of the oasis, just as Jonah had done when he had first arrived. Yaana had given him _saya_ to drink in the hollowed out half of a _demer _nut, which she had fashioned into a cup. She had held it to his lips, helping him to drink until his strength had returned. 

Yaana had also done the same for T'Pris and Anthas when they returned, T'Pris dehydrated from her walk across the desert, Anthas exhausted from having flown carrying her. T'Pris had recovered more quickly than Jonah and Anthas and had begun digging up _qir'lal_ roots with her knife for them. She still foraged between the trees around the oasis. Yaana floated indolently in the water of the oasis.

Jonah was feeling better now that he had eaten some of the _qir'lal_ roots T'Pris had found and the heat from the sun was no longer affecting his blistered skin. It all seemed very idyllic. He knew the Orb was probably not a conscious entity, although the discovery two years before that the Orbs were the product of beings living in a wormhole near Bajor meant that no-one could be certain what they were. He still thought of It creating this deliberately for some reason. But he couldn't understand Its purpose here. What was he to learn? Perhaps to relax and enjoy good things when they happened. To lie here and drink _saya_ and eat _qir'lal_ .

The evening was becoming cooler. He walked to where Anthas lay, Yaana and T'Pris following him. That had been happening increasingly during the time that they had been experiencing the vision. As one moved they all did, as if they shared the same thought, automatically knowing where the others were. As now they all shared the same question. What next?

The answer came in a roar from above. The sky split as a sheet of flame shot across it. The four ducked as light and heat poured down on them. It resembled one of the Bersallis firestorms, but as Jonah studied it more closely he saw it was not flame, it was unmoving featureless brightness, but with the sense of absence, like static. The entire sky seemed to have been eaten up by it. The light now began to descend. A solid plane gradually lowering, to crush them or consume them.

Trial by what. By absence of elements? Trial by void? He knew the oasis was too good to last.

"Jonah what is it?" Anthas asked looking up in terror. She, Yaana and T'Pris had pressed themselves to the ground. Only T'Pris seemed unperturbed. Jonah shook his head and looked up.

The absence had touched the tops of the palms surrounding the oasis. As it touched the trees they seemed to discharge the void. The light shot down the trunks and the trees dissolved. 

The void was now less than four metres above them. Time to do something.

Jonah saw the staff that T'Pris had cut and brought with her through the desert. It was lying next to Anthas where she had dropped it on completing her flight. He reached over to it, picked it up and stood. The absence was only a metre or so above his head. He looked down at Yaana, T'Pris and Anthas lying at his feet. Maybe if he could discharge the void they would be protected. It seemed non-sensical, but the Orb was making the rules, not physics. Raising the staff above his head the tip touched the flat, featureless un-ness above him. He was consumed, engulfed. The world disappeared and he dissolved into it.

Uncreated.

****

º 

Jonah, Anthas, Yaana and T'Pris found themselves in the meditation room on Muddrox. They shifted stiffly in their biochairs, their muscles aching. The Orb glittered with light reflected from Its surroundings, but Its internal glow had ceased. Whatever It had in mind for them, It had completed it.

The Harbinger floated between them. In unison the four looked at her.

"How long were we out, Auntie?" Jonah asked her. He began removing the tubes from his body, and detaching sensor pads.

"Three days," came the response. "Your experiences were in real time."

"And now?" Anthas and T'Pris asked.

"You are linked. Although you can think separately, part of your autonomic and subconscious thought processes are a single unit," the Harbinger replied. "Through you the four entities that have agreed to combat the !K will be able to combine their efforts."

"Can you tell us who these 'entities' are?" Jonah asked.

The Harbinger glowed more brightly, her lights flickering in the cloud.

"They were all once human, or humanoid, but for a variety of reasons have transcended that. They all now have the ability to create and re-create reality and move in and out of the higher dimensions," the Harbinger moved to each one of them in turn as she spoke, touching them, to reassure them, Jonah thought.

"Yaana," the Orion woman looked up. "You will assist Charles Evans." Yaana disappeared. They could feel her, nearby. She was safe. For now.

"T'Pris – the Decker-Ilia-V'ger entity." T'Pris disappeared too.

"Anthas. You are assigned to the Q formerly known as Amanda Rogers." Anthas winked out.

The Harbinger moved over to Jonah and surrounded him lovingly. "And you, _nephew_, you are to assist the Traveller once called Wesley Crusher." The name rang a bell, but he couldn't place it. Jonah felt something shift in the room around him. It seemed to be folding.

"Please. Remember you promised to protect Droxine," Jonah reminded the Harbinger.

"Of course," his great-aunt reassured him. "After all, she is family." The room disappeared.

Yaana looked around her at the bridge of a starship. She tried to place it. Constitution class. From the 2260s. The only occupant other than herself sat in the captain's chair, hunched over and brooding. Yaana walked up to him.

"Hi," she said hesitantly, unsure if the figure would hear her. The figure looked up at her. He was a young human male, with light brown hair and pale skin. He wore a green wraparound tunic and black trousers – a captain's uniform, also from the mid-2260s. He looked at Yaana suspiciously.

"Charles Evans?" she asked.

He nodded, and looked away shyly, deciding to become absorbed by the viewscreen instead of looking at her. Yaana followed his gaze. On the viewscreen was the planet Muddrox. Its dull grey and brown colouring suddenly split open with circles of fire. Yaana looked back at Charles. His brow furrowed in concentration and his eyes rolled upwards, so that only their whites were visible. The bridge disappeared and they stood in the middle of the volcanic activity. Verdant grassland surrounded them. The green circle spread outwards rapidly. Where the border between it and the surrounding molten rock lay, the space seemed to ripple and shimmer. Charles's reality in direct conflict with that of the !K. The battle had begun.

T'Pris also found herself on the bridge of a Constitution class starship. This was from a slightly later period, the 2270s, after the remaining Constitution class starships had undergone a refit. A man sat in the captain's chair. He wore a grey one-piece uniform. He stood up when T'Pris appeared and raised his hand in the _ta'al_ salute.

"T'Pris. Welcome to the _Enterprise_," the man said. "I'm Willard Decker."

T'Pris looked around her. "The _Enterprise_?"

Decker smiled. "The original _Enterprise_. I was its captain, briefly, in the 2270s. It seemed that the last place the four of us experienced as corporeal lifeforms was the bridge of an _Enterprise_. So it amused us all to…"

"…begin the battle from the bridge of an _Enterprise_," the sentence was completed by a woman, darker skinned than Decker, her head completely devoid of hair, an orange light glowing at her throat.. She wore a short white tunic. Decker had disappeared and been replaced by this woman. "I am Ilia," the woman introduced herself. She looked at the planet on the viewscreen. T'Pris watched as the figure rapidly cycled through a sequence of Decker, Ilia and a third image. The third image seemed to distort T'Pris's sense of perspective. It appeared to be a large cloud. It was definitely on the bridge, T'Pris could make out the consoles behind it through the tenuous parts of the edge of the cloud, but she had the impression it was several A.U. across.

The figure became Decker again. He continued to watch the viewscreen as the planet erupted in volcanic activity.

"Here we go," he grimaced.

Anthas was on familiar territory. This was the bridge of a Galaxy class starship, specifically the _Enterprise-D_. She had sat at the conn many times. She walked over to her station and ran her hands over the console.

"Hi," she heard. Anthas turned round. A young woman stood behind her, delicate featured, graceful, reserved. "You must be Anthas. I'm Q. Although you can call me Amanda." She smiled. Anthas's heart skipped a beat.

"This is the _Enterprise_, isn't it?" Anthas asked Amanda. "Did you create it?"

"Yes. Do you like it?"

"It's wonderful," Anthas realised she was gushing but couldn't help it. "Did you just create it out of nothing?"

Amanda nodded and smiled. She walked over to the viewscreen and looked at the image of Muddrox.

"That's why we're here, after all. The !K will attempt to manipulate reality. The others and I are here to try and stop them." She looked around at the bridge. "I can't believe it was nearly three years since I was here."

"Yes, I know. Early '69. I'd just joined the crew. I read in the general logs about what you did at Tagra IV," Anthas enthused. "I thought it was incredible."

"Thank you," Amanda was suddenly distracted. Anthas looked at the viewscreen too. The planet was erupting. 

"What's happening?" Anthas asked.

"The !K have broken through," Amanda answered. "We'd better get started." The _Enterprise_ bridge disappeared.

Jonah tried to work out where he was. It was a Starfleet starship, of that he was sure, but he couldn't tell of what class. He had only ever been on one starship bridge, that of the _Enterprise-D_, and that was after it had been split open by the crash on Veridian III. 

"It's the _Enterprise-E_," a voice explained.

Jonah looked for the source of the voice. A young man, about twenty years old, stood by the turbolift doors.

"I stopped by at Utopia Planitia last time I was in the Sol system and took a look. It's already finished. They just have shake-down tests to run," the young man looked round the bridge, somewhat wistfully, Jonah thought.

Then the name clicked with Jonah. Wesley Crusher. The man had served on the _Enterprise-D_ as a teenager before going to the academy. The quartermaster on the _Enterprise_, his one-time superior Eddie Allsop, had had a lot to say about Wesley Crusher. Well, Eddie had had a lot to say full stop, but he did refer to Wesley more than most. He drew on the name every time he wanted an example of how many of the younger generation were too smart for their own good, and the good of others. Jonah had not believed everything Eddie had said. He had liked the man, but he had had a chip on his shoulder the size of a small moon. And anyway wasn't Wesley's mother Doctor Crusher? Jonah had met her quite a few times, being quite accident-prone, and she seemed like a very caring and understanding woman. The idea of her raising some sort of _wunderkind_ superbrat seemed very unlikely.

Wesley looked up at the viewscreen. Jonah followed his gaze. They were looking at Muddrox.

"We decided to wait up here, observing the planet for signs of !K activity," Wesley explained. "That's about all we could agree on. The problem with being omnipotent is that you get used to working on your own. The Harbinger explained that that's why you're here." He looked at Jonah. "I think it's more likely that you're here to remind us what we're doing this for. If the !K did invade it wouldn't affect me, or the Q or the Thasians. None of us are that reliant on the material Universe any more. The Harbinger had trouble getting any of the higher-dimensional lifeforms inhabiting the Galaxy to help, and she only made it through to us because we were all once human."

"What will the !K do?" Jonah asked.

"If they can control reality here, they'll have a bridging point into this galaxy. They'll try and impose their will here. We'll try and oppose it. What they'll do specifically, we don't know." Wesley pointed at the screen as Muddrox erupted into volcanic plumes. "Something like that."

Jonah had no way of telling how long he watched Wesley battle against the !K. Both time and space fractured completely. One moment he was standing with Wesley on the bridge of the _Enterprise-E_, the next he was on a volcanic plain, lava and ash venting from fumeroles around them. The scenery rippled and was replaced by featureless flat steel. The edges of the plain rippled and the steel buckled. Again and again the surroundings changed. Jonah perceived the rippling effect each time, and realised that this was the interface between the two realities, the two wills. Wesley attempted to impose his, the !K pushed back. The border moved back and forth as each alternately gained the upper hand. Wesley jumped them both to another part of the planet. They appeared in landscaped gardens, serrated by jagged cliffs, the left-over of a battle fought by one of their comrades on another front. The gardens burnt, raging fires turning the plants to ash. Wesley reconstituted them and still the battle continued.

Jonah and Wesley looked around the bridge. They were back on the _Enterprise-E_. The spatial distortions had ended. Wesley and the others had beaten the !K. It seemed too easy.

"We're back," Jonah stated, redundantly.

Wesley shrugged.

"We'll return to the surface. If the !K influence has finished then you should have the androids under your control again."

Jonah nodded and waited for Wesley to move them. Nothing happened.

"Wes?" Jonah asked.

"I can't seem to move. Normally I just think myself somewhere and I'm there, but…"

The turbo-lift doors opened and Anthas entered. She was accompanied by another woman, whom Jonah guessed must be the person the Harbinger had called Amanda. 

"An!" he greeted them. "We won! The !Ks are gone."

Amanda smiled. She was dazzlingly beautiful. Jonah wasn't normally attracted to human women, but he found it difficult to tear his gaze away from her. He glanced at Anthas, anticipating her amusement at his discomfort. knowing that she would know exactly what he was thinking and feeling. But her expression was blank. He tried to reach out empathically to establish the link that way, but there was something wrong. Since the Orb vision he had felt Anthas in his head as a presence, almost subliminal, but there all the time. Now Anthas's mind was gone from his own. Were the effects to disappear so soon? Jonah felt the loss keenly. He had been so close to her, now she seemed distant again.

And there was something else different about her.

He looked at her skin closely. The blue seemed faded, patchy in places. One of her antennae seemed slightly crooked.

"An, your left antenna. Is it O.K.?"

An reached up to the antenna and touched it. It came off in her hand. Jonah was horrified, but Anthas seemed unconcerned. Jonah heard a voice behind him call "Cut!"

Jonah turned round. The entire wall of the bridge had gone. Instead there was a large room, full of cameras and lights. Cables were strewn around the floor. Further away Jonah could see parts of familiar rooms. Two biochairs stood back-to-back, the interior of the Anduin's cockpit stood next to the bridge of the_ Enterprise-D_. People were gradually taking apart the latter. It came apart in sections. Jonah looked back at the bridge around him. There was a console next to him. He could see the display panels were fake, just pieces of plastic cut out and stuck together. 

Beside him Anthas was walking off the bridge into the darker room beyond.

Jonah turned to Wesley.

"Wes? Are you doing this?"

"Come on, Phil. I said 'cut'. Take five. You too Wil, Olivia," the voice called again, a cajoling tone to it. "We'll go again when Michael's fixed Claire's make-up." Amanda also left the bridge, following Anthas. 

Jonah looked out into the room beyond the bridge, to where the voice was coming from. Standing in a group of three people was Geordi La Forge, but without his visor. He seemed intent on what one of them was saying. 

Jonah spoke quietly to Wesley. "What's going on? Is this real?"

"I don't know," Wesley seemed as bewildered as Jonah felt. "It's as if we're on a stage set. As if everything we know is fake. And what's Geordi doing here?"

Geordi had finished his conversation. He walked up to Wesley and Jonah. He was accompanied by the man he had just been talking to. The man was about the same height as Jonah, and just a few years older. 

"Mark's got some good news for you," Geordi said.

"No, you tell them LeVar," Mark replied.

Geordi turned to Jonah. "_Inter Alia_ has been picked up for another season," he announced. "Mark's already working on the scripts."

Mark grinned. "Well, I've done the outlines. I've written Denise into the first one, and Jennifer Gatti. I know you've always wanted to meet her, Phil." Mark paused, waiting for a response. He frowned.

"Are you O.K., Phil?" he asked. He turned to Geordi. "LeVar, I think you've been working your actors too hard."

Jonah backed away. This couldn't be happening. Nothing made sense. The edge of the stage loomed threateningly. From the clothes and the equipment he judged it to be pre-war Earth. No space-flight, no replicators. He felt that if he stepped off the bridge then his life wouldn't be worth living. He tried to imagine it. Trapped on one planet. Only humans to mix with, no other sapient lifeforms. Struggling for money to pay for food, and shelter. It seemed incredibly dull and unfulfilling.

He clung to the memories of his life. His connection with Yaana, T'Pris and Anthas. The _Anduin_, the _Enterprise_. It had to be real. Jonah looked again at the deck under his feet. Was it plywood? 

Wesley seemed to be going through the same emotions. It would be worse for him, not just trapped on one planet, but trapped into normal human powers, the usual standard dimensions that other humans lived in. The two of them felt the new reality taking over. What had been their real lives was just a fictional story, that they had been playacting. 

Anthas returned, her antenna fixed in place. She only looked like the friend Jonah loved. That was fake, too. All the emotions he had felt from them were fake.

"It's the !K," Wesley stated, the voice cutting through Jonah's mounting depression. "The !K are still here. They created this."

"Of course," Jonah exclaimed. "Wes, can you bring back the _Enterprise_?"

Wesley closed his eyes. Around him reality rippled. The plywood became duranium, the displays became actual LCARS read-outs and not cut pieces of perspex, Anthas disappeared, and the studio was replaced by the wall of the bridge.

Jonah began walking towards the turbo-lift doors. He wasn't sure how long Wesley could hang on to this reality. He felt sure that if he failed, the world of the TV studio would become their only future.

"Wes! Come on!" he called. Wesley's eyes opened. He began to follow Jonah. The turbo-lift doors wouldn't open. Jonah reached out to them and pushed. The door splintered. 

"Wes! Concentrate," Jonah pleaded. The turbo-lift solidified around them. It dropped several floors and the doors opened. Noise and heat and the smell of alcohol and smoke hit them. They'd entered another reality, but it didn't seem to be a !K one. 

Anthas examined her make-up in the mirror. Her lipstick had smudged. Amanda was next to her, reapplying her mascara. "Do you want some more lipstick?" Amanda asked looking through her handbag. She held out the stick. "Keep it. Purple goes much better with your skin colouring than mine anyway." 

Anthas took the tiny cylinder from her friend. "I love your earrings," she commented. 

Amanda straightened one of them where it had become twisted while she'd been dancing. The noise of the night-club was muffled slightly here in the females' toilets, but not much. Anthas ran her hands over the smooth skin on either side of her head. "That's the only thing I regret about having antennae instead of ears. I don't get to wear earrings."

"But your antennae are beautiful," Amanda replied. "I love the thicker fluted ones like you've got, not the smaller tapering ones like that guy at the bar."

"What, the _eadtu_ with the ale gut?" Anthas shuddered. "He was completely gross."

"But what about the other two with him? Weren't they cute?"

"If you like them, you dance with them." Anthas looked around, puzzled. "Amanda? Where are we?"

"The Glamor Quadrant. It's my favourite club from back home. Me and my friends from Topeka used to come here all the time."

"This is Earth?" Anthas was still disorientated.

"No, it's still Muddrox," Amanda explained. "We couldn't hold the !K any more, so I retreated to here," she looked around the room, noting the graffiti on the walls, the suspect pools on the floor. "It's the place that's most real to me, so it's the easiest to maintain. Hopefully the others will make it here. To be honest," she dropped her voice conspiratorially, "I don't think they had quite as strong a grip on reality in the first place."

"Yes, well, you know men," Anthas replied, heading back towards the dance floor.

The music and the smell of sweat and alcohol and smoke hit them like a wall. Anthas leapt enthusiastically onto the dance floor. She loved Terran music, although her favourite period was the 20th century, the fifty years between the second world war and the eugenics war. Although this was 24th century music, it seemed to capture some of the aggression and originality of that earlier age.

Amanda was there next to her, joining in. Her task was to maintain the integrity of this reality, hold back the influence of the !K. The people that surrounded them, the lights and the music, were all created by her Q-derived powers, but the more real it felt to her, the easier it would be to maintain it. Anthas hoped the others would be able to get there. She felt Jonah was on his way. The others she was not so sure about.

Yaana and Charles Evans stood on the last piece of solid ground they could see. They had jumped to a completely barren plain, concrete spread out in all directions. However the !K had reached out to them and the plain had collapsed, holes opening all around them and the ground falling away. Now only a narrow pillar of rock remained. The air around them shimmered with spatial distortions, which gradually closed in on them. Yaana saw Charles's despair. She held him back from flinging himself into the abyss that surrounded them.

"No, Charlie," she yelled at him, trying to make herself heard over the screaming wind "we can still make it." An image of Anthas came to her. The Andorian woman was sitting at a bar, talking to a group of three other Andorians. A barman handed her a drink. Charles caught the image. They jumped.

Anthas looked at the sign on the door, which said 'This door is alarmed' and marvelled at the combination of human ingenuity and human stupidity the statement signified. On the one hand they had given the door sufficient intelligence to experience emotions, but on the other they had frightened it enough to make it feel alarmed by something. Still at least they had thoughtfully attached a sign to it to warn everyone. She pushed the door open and looked outside. Now I'm alarmed as well, she thought.

Outside of Amanda's protective area, Muddrox was in turmoil. The !K were focusing all of their mental energies against the barrier that surrounded the small night club. Nothing solid existed as far as she could see. Matter flowed and changed colour and hurled itself in their direction, but was prevented from reaching them. Anthas shuddered and stepped back into the corridor, closing the door on the chaos outside. She hoped Amanda could last out.

Inside the others were recuperating after their struggle with the !K. She passed Yaana and Charlie sitting on the stairs. Whatever they were talking about, they were deeply absorbed in it. They didn't notice Anthas as she walked past but carried on talking. Anthas tried to eavesdrop.

"You were ready to throw your life away," Yaana was saying. "But why?"

Charlie shrugged. "What do I have to live for? Since I was three I've lived among the Thasians. They're non-corporeal, and emotionless. Apart from a brief time spent on the _Antares_ and the _Enterprise_, that's all I've known. It's not enough."

"Why don't you leave?"

"They won't let me. I made a few … mistakes the last time they let me go. They'll give me another chance, some day, but they don't feel time in the same way we do. They might wait centuries before risking it again."

Yaana slipped her hand into his. 

"So this is your one chance to be with corporeal life for the next hundred or more years?" she asked him.

He nodded glumly. 

Yaana kissed him. "Then we'd better make the most of it," she said.

Anthas decided it was time to get back to the others.

Wesley, Jonah and Willard Decker were sitting at a table in the corner. A partly drunk pint of lager stood in front of each of them. Wesley had suppressed the volume of the music in a small circle around the table so that they could hear each other.

"So you dropped out of the Academy in your third year?" Jonah asked Wesley. Wesley nodded. "Me too," Jonah added.

"And that's after retaking one year. So really I'd thrown away nearly four years of study. I just realised that it wasn't for me," Wesley replied. "Even if the Traveller hadn't turned up, I would have left."

"So why join in the first place?" Jonah asked.

"Stupidity," Wesley answered.

"Stupidity?" Jonah was surprised. "I thought you were supposed to be a genius – 'the next stage in human evolution' and all that."

Wesley nodded. "That's true too. Can you imagine how much that irritated the other kids on the _Enterprise_? It's no wonder I never really made friends with them." 

"It's not your fault, though," Jonah interjected. "You couldn't help the way you were born."

"Yes it _was_ my fault. That's what I meant about being stupid. If I'd been smarter I'd have realised what I was doing," he took a drink from his glass. "I suppose I was looking for acceptance, and approval. And every time I solved a problem, or worked with Geordi or Data, I fitted in more. But only with them. They ended up being my only friends."

"Your father died when you were very young," Decker observed. "I know what that's like. You built up your self-esteem by looking for approval from authority figures. You wouldn't be the first to do that."

Jonah looked at the man in surprise. Decker was one aspect of a trinary non-corporeal entity, and had been for a century, yet he still seemed to have carried some of the burden of his humanity with him for that length of time.

"No, you're right," Wesley agreed. "But I was caught up in that whole thing of trying to be something I wasn't, the loyal Starfleet ensign, just to keep that approval and acceptance going. I'm just lucky I only threw four years of my life away and not more." He looked up at someone behind Jonah. Jonah turned. It was Anthas.

"Are you three just going to sit here and mope, or are you going to dance?"

Jonah stood up and took her hand, "Let's dance," he said. He looked back at his table companions. Decker was now the Deltan, Ilia. She and Wesley were deep in conversation. He left them to it.

Anthas was trying to keep Jonah occupied so that he wouldn't notice Yaana and Charlie returning together. His self-esteem had already taken a big enough blow with T'Pris and Spock, and she'd noticed how keen he was on Yaana. She beckoned to T'Pris and Amanda. They were at the Dabo tables in one corner. Amanda had said that she'd always had a recurring dream that she was a Dabo girl called Olivia, and had always had a curiosity about what that would be like. Now she was taking probably her last chance to indulge her fantasy.

T'Pris and Amanda came over to them, just as Yaana and Charlie entered. They kissed, and parted, Charlie joining Decker and Wesley at their table, Yaana joining the rest of them on the dance floor. Jonah danced on, unaware of what had happened.

Anthas notice something out of the corner of her eye. A flicker of movement. She turned, and noticed the wall rippling. The reality maintained by Amanda was breaking down. The people Amanda had created to fill out her creation flickered and disappeared as the approaching wave of deformation neared. The music changed and became atonal, a whine of distortion and feedback.

The wave neared the dance floor. Anthas could see that it had well-defined edges. Behind it the reality had solidified again, distorted and fractured, but stable. However, as she watched, the walls and ceiling of the night club decayed and faded. This was the reality that the !K brought with it. Corruption and entropy. Anthas and the others backed away as the circle closed in on them. 

It came closer. It seemed unstoppable. Decker, Wesley and Charlie joined the group, now huddled in a circle in the centre of the dance floor. Charlie stepped closer to the advancing wall of decay. Yaana held his arm as he left the group.

"Charlie, no," she yelled, trying to make herself heard over the feedback. "Don't. You don't need to throw your life away."

He shook it off, and said something back that she didn't hear. He smiled sadly at her once, briefly, and carried on walking. Yaana took a step after him, but was pulled back by Amanda. "Stay back," Amanda shouted at her, above the cacophony. Yaana twisted round to watch Charlie.

He stood directly in front of the approaching ripple in space, his muscles taut in the effort of his concentration. The interface became indented as Charlie's mind pushed at it, then it contracted rapidly, hitting and enveloping him. As they watched his body warped and twisted, and seemed to flow inside out over and over again. Limbs stretched and folded, internal organs emerged and were then subsumed in the liquefied flesh. With each fold that twisted him, the mass became less differentiated, until finally it became still. An amorphous mass of protoplasm.

Yaana had buried her head in Anthas's shoulder as the transformation had started, while Anthas and Jonah watched in horror. T'Pris seemed fascinated by the process, or was stoically practising _arie'mnu_. 

Meanwhile Decker, Amanda and Wesley had positioned themselves equidistantly within the enclosing sphere. They all had their eyes closed and appeared to be meditating. They appeared to have decided upon some course of action to defeat the !K. All were absolutely still, occupied with their thoughts, unchanging except for Decker's intermittent cycling through Ilia and V'ger.

Behind them lay the pool of protoplasm that had once been Charles Evans. T'Pris, Jonah, Anthas and Yaana stood closely together, trying to stay as far away from the pool as possible, but as the decay closed in they were forced closer to it. As they neared it, it began to undulate as the !K began to control it, and pseudopodia emerged from its surface. The pseudopodia reached out towards Amanda.

"Amanda!" Anthas yelled, trying to warn her, but the woman was too deep in concentration to hear. Anthas ran between Amanda and the protoplasm in a vain attempt to protect her. Jonah, Yaana and T'Pris followed. It flowed towards them, hitting them and swallowing them in a wave. 

Anthas watched in horror as the protoplasm covered her. She seemed to be dissolving, her arms, her body becoming undifferentiated. There was no pain, and it was over in a split second, but for a moment she was filled with a fear and a horror she did not think possible. Then she saw nothing.

She was aware, though she could not see, or hear, or touch. All she could sense was a powerful malevolent force, somewhere out there. It moved towards her and her mind backed away. It was the !K coming for her. It seemed the only thing in the Universe was herself and this mind, seeking her out.

But then she sensed someone else. Jonah was here too. Her mind fled towards him, he towards her. It wasn't just Jonah. It was Jonah and T'Pris, their minds melded, their thoughts intermixing as one. Anthas flowed into them, feeling them envelop and welcome her. Memories flooded though her. Vulcan, Rigel II, Andoria, the _Enterprise_, joining the Academy, experiencing _pon farr_, listening to music, holding a clay pot in her hands. She couldn't tell which were hers and which the others. But one thought cut through everything.

Yaana.

The Cochrane-Anthas-T'Pris entity sought out its missing quarter. She was there, almost surrounded by the dark mass of the !K. Frightened and alone. Again the merger took place, thoughts and memories flowed. C-A-Y-T recalled lovers, enemies, parents, friends. Recalled the !K watching them, hunting them, and turned and faced it.

The !K attacked, and met a mind far more powerful than it had expected. C-A-Y-T reflected back the !K's malevolence, and amplified it. The !K struggled trying to find a way in through the mind of its adversary, to fracture it as it had the mind of the Charles Evans being, but it failed. Gradually C-A-Y-T eroded it, crushed it, until the !K was no more.

C-A-Y-T rested for a moment, relishing its power, its existence, then recalled the world beyond. It remembered its separate aspects, its separate lives. Reluctantly it began to disentangle the separate parts of its mind, parcelling out its memories and thoughts into four discrete units. Cochrane, Anthas, Yaana and T'Pris emerged, sensing the loss of the sundered selves, and trying to make sense of their surroundings.

They had mass, but no bodies. They tried to stretch limbs that did not exist, take breaths without lungs. But the undifferentiated protoplasm responded to their thoughts. They recalled cells, neurons, bone and muscles and the protoplasm recreated their bodies. Four bodies began to form within the shapeless mass, limbs began to take shape and move. The forms took on colour, white, black, blue and green, hair grew, fine brown, thick black, brilliant white, luxuriant green. The forms pulled apart, the remaining protoplasm clinging to them, limbs unentwining, trying to find purchase in their surroundings. All four forms took deep, shuddering breaths and began coughing, lying helpless on the floor. 

The four of them opened their eyes. The circle of decay was still closing in, the floor rotted and table and chairs collapsed as they watched, but Decker, Wesley and Amanda remained motionless. Then, slowly, they began to dissolve, their bodies becoming swirling clouds of light. The swirling clouds expanded and rotated faster until the entire sphere that remained free of the !K was full of the particles. Jonah held up his hand and saw it glow as the particles flowed past it. The floor began to splinter under his feet, ageing years in seconds, and then, faster than his eyes could follow, the particles separated, spreading throughout the room and, he guessed, beyond, touching every part that had been influenced by the !K.

The decay stopped. They could no longer see the spatial distortions that signified the effects of the !K. 

It was over.

The four of them had waited in the ruined night club for an hour or so until the Harbinger had reached them. She was accompanied by several of Droxine's androids in a small shuttlecraft. The trip back to Droxine's underground complex had been bewildering. Muddrox now had an atmosphere. Someone, probably Amanda since she was good at atmospheres, had created it during the battle with the !K. The landscape was nightmarish and chaotic; forests torn by sheer cliffs of steel, gardens littered with smouldering balls of cooling lava, mountain ranges of slowly melting ice. All fallout from the conflict of creative and destructive energies of the most powerful beings of this galaxy and of Andromeda.

Droxine was safe, much to Jonah's relief, although nearly all of her androids and much of her complex, were destroyed. But she would be able to rebuild them. She had not wanted her grandson to leave, so the four of them had agreed to stay for a few months, to help Droxine and her androids begin the gradual process of rebuilding. They had explained that they could not stay for longer than that because they had to take the Orb back to Bajor and the runabout back to Deep Space Nine. Until then, they had a new world to explore, a world that had some of the most bizarre landscapes of any planet in the Galaxy.

It was on one of these exploration trips that Jonah introduced his maternal grandmother to his paternal grandmother's sister. It was new year's day and the five carbon-based inhabitants of Muddrox were walking up the pitted slopes of a ceramic hillside in an attempt to recover from the over-enthusiastic seeing out of 2371 and the seeing in of 2372. They had met the Harbinger there and she had enveloped them enthusiastically, communicating her thanks to Jonah and his friends for helping her. She also insisted he keep in touch, which he promised to, the incongruity of filial obligation to a non-corporeal cloud of lights not occurring to him. The Harbinger had then started communicating with Droxine, which quickly became as embarrassing as any grandparental gathering has ever been, as they began to exchange opinions about what a nice lad young Jonah was and how it was about time that he settled down.

Jonah left them to it and wandered over to a high ridge of enamel that jutted from the ceramic surface, morosely watching the sun set over a mountain-range in the distance - jagged cliffs that rose like a row of teeth, or perhaps a row of teeth that rose like jagged cliffs - it was difficult to tell. His unhappiness was due to him considering what now waited for him. The four of them would return to their lives, go their separate ways, and the closeness he'd felt, the interdependence with other people he'd always wanted and never been able to find before, would be gone.

Anthas followed him up the embossment and sat next to him. She looked at him and smiled as if at a private joke. 

"I've been talking to Yaana," she said. "She tells me that you're the only man she's ever fully trusted." Jonah shrugged. He'd been told that before. In his experience it had never really counted for much. "It's a big deal for her, for me too, seeing into someone's mind like that and really knowing them, and knowing that you can depend on someone completely." She paused. "When we were in communion, through the Orb, and then again when we were part of the !K, we had something, something I don't want to lose."

"An, where is this leading?" Jonah asked her. 

"Joe, I'm trying to propose to you," Anthas replied, exasperated.

"What? You want to marry me?" Jonah was astonished.

"No, not you, Well, not just you." Anthas was amused at the idea. "Andorian marriages are between four people. I want to marry all three of you. What do you think?"

   [1]: mailto:T@Pris



	7. Carraya

7 Carraya ****

7 Carraya

Captain Sisko stood at the door to his office, watching the activity in Ops. There was a heightened sense of tension these days, ever since the Klingons had started their war on Cardassia. The conflicts in the Gamma Quadrant had been bad enough, but there had been the psychological barrier of the wormhole to lessen their emotional impact. The Klingon-Cardassian war was in this sector and so was a lot more difficult to push to the back of one's mind. Sisko had taken for granted the sense of security that the Khitomer accords had provided. Now that they had been dissolved, the Galaxy seemed a far more threatening place. 

The latest intelligence reports indicated that the Klingons, probably encouraged by their successes against Cardassia, were now taking the war to the Romulans. Dozens of minor skirmishes had broken out all along the Klingon-Romulan border. Twenty-five years of cold war tension were finding release.

Sisko passed his baseball from hand to hand, then decided to read the rest of those intelligence reports that Worf had brought to him. Sisko was still unsure about Worf. Worf had only been on the station a short time, and seemed to keep himself to himself a lot. Still, the Chief had known him for years on the _Enterprise_ and seemed to have a lot of regard for him, even if they didn't seem particularly close. If the Chief trusted him then Sisko was prepared to ignore any doubts about his new Strategic Operations Officer.

Just as Sisko was about to turn toward his office he noticed that Major Kira had moved over to the communications console and was reading the screen intently.

"Captain," she called to him. Sisko walked over to her.

"It's a distress call," she explained. "From the _Anduin. _Remember? The station runabout that's on loan to Starfleet Intelligence?" Sisko remembered – a Lieutenant Yaana had been in the process of following a drug smuggling operation and had needed the ship to complete the mission. He'd had no hesitation in releasing it.

"What's their problem?"

"They were travelling through a system near the Romulan-Klingon border when they got caught up in the conflict. They've crashed – the ship's disabled."

"Where?"

Kira checked the screen again. "The Carraya system. They're on Carraya IV."

"That could put any rescue attempt right in the middle of the Romulan-Klingon conflict." Sisko thought for a moment. "Ask Lieutenant-Commander Worf to join us in my office." Time to test the man's abilities.

Sisko found that he was severely disappointed in those abilities. He had explained the problem to Worf and asked his advice. How should they proceed since the system was along the border between the two Empires? Worf had enquired which system it was, to which Major Kira had replied that it was the Carraya system. The Starfleet personnel were marooned on Carraya IV. Up until then Worf had been giving the problem serious thought. At the mention of the name of the planet, he lost that equanimity and began demanding to be allowed to go to the system on his own.

"You'll have to give me a reason," Sisko held on to his temper.

Worf saw that he had overstepped the mark, and replied less heatedly. "I can't."

"You _can't_?" Sisko was astounded at the man's insubordination. "If you can't reveal your reasons for wanting to go to Carraya on your own then I can't accede to them." 

"Captain Picard would have trusted my judgement," Worf bristled, "and accepted that there are demands that honour makes on me as a Klingon." Worf's anger was contained, but was visible nonetheless. 

"I'm not Captain Picard and I'm not going to give you the same degree of latitude that you had on the _Enterprise_," Sisko's anger was not contained. Your personal feelings are not the issue here." He turned to Kira. "Major, will you lead the mission to rescue our people?"

Kira nodded. "I have a personal connection to this, too. I met the four of them while I was in the Rigel System last year. Not only that but Lieutenant Anthas informed me that she has the Orb of Transcendence on her ship." The mention of that name triggered another emotional response in Worf. He groaned. It sounded like a note of despair. "Commander Worf," Kira turned to the Klingon. "I'll need you with me."

"'Lieutenant Anthas?'" Worf seemed too preoccupied to respond. "And is she with a human called Cochrane and a Vulcan named T'Pris?"

"Yes, and a Lieutenant Yaana from Starfleet Intelligence." Kira was bemused by Worf's change in demeanour. "Why?"

"I know them too. I think the Romulans and the Klingons will be the least of your problems."

The _Anduin_ had crashed on Carraya IV on stardate 49056. Cochrane had taken leave of his grandmother on Muddrox a few days earlier, and he and his friends had set course for Deep Space Nine, with the intention of returning their runabout to Captain Sisko and the Orb of Transcendence to Major Kira. The course from Muddrox to Bajor had taken them close to the Romulan-Klingon border, any other route would have added kiloparsecs to their journey. The risk was a calculated one, but unfortunately the Klingons chose that time to start attacks along the border. As they were passing through the Carraya System, they had run into a confrontation between three K'Vort-class ships and a D'derridex warbird. The warbird had imploded and the shockwave had hurled the small runabout into the atmosphere of the nearby planet below too violently. As the runabout hit the atmosphere its port nacelle had ruptured and it had fallen into the forest below; Anthas managing her third controlled crash-landing in under a year. 

The _Anduin_ had not been badly damaged, although it was impossible for it to lift off with the ruptured nacelle. The replicators still worked well, as had the location beacon they had unloaded and set up nearby. Once that had been deployed and contact made with DS9, there was nothing for them to do except wait to be picked up.

They had spent the three days since the crash clearing an area to sit in, exploring the surrounding areas, and tuning the frequency of the insect repellor to work on the indigenous insects. The four were spending the first truly comfortable evening on the planet sitting around a small fire and discussing their wedding plans.

"But Andorian custom is OK with one guy and three women getting married?" Jonah asked.

"Not really, but then we don't really have the concept of male and female in the same way anyway," Anthas replied. She didn't wait for any further question, Jonah's quizzically raised eyebrow communicated his preference for elucidation well enough.

"Our sexes are differentiated in two separate ways," she explained. "We have the same differentiation as other humanoids, the primary and secondary sexual characteristics that we all know and love," she let loose a smirk at that point. "But then we have these, too," she ran her right hand along her right antenna. "You've seen plenty of Andorians, right?" She looked around at the other three. They nodded. "Some of them have those tapered tiny antennae poking from their foreheads, and others have thicker, fluted ones, like mine", she clasped her antenna again, "extending from the top of their skulls. Well, we have an additional set of sexes defined by what type of antenna we have."

"But," Jonah interjected. "your antennae aren't sex organs."

"Oh, aren't they?" Anthas replied, loosing another smirk. "I'll have to give you a lesson in Andorian physiology some time."

"Now, An, don't encourage him," Yaana admonished. She stood up, and began heading towards the runabout. "Just going to replenish the replicators," she explained. 

Jonah moved the conversation back round to the original subject.

"So how does this affect the weddings?"

"Well, they're between four people, one of each sex. The two sexes that non-Andorians would perceive of as male are divided into those with pointed antennae, called _eadtu_, and those with thicker fluted antennae, known as _eikaas_. Females are similarly divided into _kadurali_ and _shoika_. A stable family unit is supposed to need one of each, each one fulfilling a specific role within the relationship, otherwise there'll be disharmony within the marriage and any offspring won't have the proper role models they'll need."

"So are all four needed for reproduction?" Jonah asked.

Anthas nodded.

"Isn't that a bit … complicated?" he suggested.

Anthas paused, thinking of the best way to phrase it. "Let's just say that on Andoria, no-one gets pregnant by accident."

"And us?" T'Pris asked. Up until now she had been very quiet, watching the banter between her two friends and deep in thought. "How do we fit in with this arrangement of four sexes?"

"Well, for the duration of the wedding you'll have to assume a sex. In Andorian law that's OK, because you don't have antennae, so therefore you're classified as asexual. I'm _shoika_, obviously. You'll have to divide the rest up between you." 

"So what are these 'roles' we're supposed to have?" Jonah asked.

Anthas paused, trying to find words to explain, when there was a noise from the forest beyond the clearing; the sound of a branch breaking. They looked towards the edge of the clearing and three shapes appeared. T'Pris stood, preparing to run to the _Anduin_ to get a phaser, but was stopped by a voice behind her.

"Don't move!" the voice ordered. 

At the door of the _Anduin _Yaana paused, then ducked back inside, her heart beating rapidly. Someone was out there.

The three shapes had been a distraction while the rest of the intruders had crept behind them. They now stepped into the light. They were Klingons, two of them elderly males, one a young female. They all had firearms pointed at Jonah, T'Pris and Anthas. It was the female who spoke.

"Bind them!" she ordered.

Hands grabbed Jonah's wrists and pulled his hands behind his back. He felt metal bands draw close around them.

"We are Federation citizens," T'Pris remonstrated. "You cannot do this to us. The Khitomer Accords state that …"

The female stepped close to T'Pris and gazed levelly at her. T'Pris was petite for a Vulcan, the Klingon woman looked down on her.

"Don't tell _us_ about Khitomer," she hissed. "Besides we are a long way from Qo'noS here," she replied. One of the Klingon males cuffed T'Pris as the Klingon woman spoke. 

"I am Ba'el," the Klingon woman introduced herself. "If you follow our instructions you will not be harmed. If, however, you attempt to escape …" she left the threat unspoken. She waved her firearm at them. Jonah was momentarily surprised to see that it was a Romulan disruptor. The surprise was quickly replaced by fear as he realised how ruthless these Klingons must be if they had taken weapons from Romulans.

"Move," one of the Klingons behind Jonah ordered commanded, jabbing him in the back.

Jonah moved.

The _Defiant_ was nearing the Carraya system. It was cloaked, although that would only conceal them from Klingon ships, since the cloaking device was Romulan. So far, however, they had encountered neither Klingons nor Romulans. Kira was still anticipating the mission to be a routine pick-up of marooned personnel. Worf was not so confident.

"What sort of problems do you think we'll run into?" Kira asked, noting Worf's continued preoccupation and assuming he was concerned about running into the Romulan-Klingon conflict.

"It's difficult to predict," Worf replied. "On my last mission with them I was accompanying a Vulcan ambassador who had just returned from Romulus." Kira was confused for a moment, then realised that Worf wasn't concerned about the Romulans or Klingons, but about the people they were to pick up. "One of them seduced the ambassador and one of the others assaulted him. The Romulan envoys left in disgust. In three days Cochrane and his accomplices set back Romulan/Federation diplomacy by decades." Worf managed to make the events sound like a re-run of the Tomed Incident.

"They're that undisciplined?" to Kira this didn't seem like the people she knew.

Worf paused to consider the question. "No, it's not that. It's just …" he tried again. "In our myths we have beings called the _Sd'lich_. The _Sd'lich_ attract misfortune. They don't cause the chaos, but wherever they appear chaos surrounds them. The only thing feared more than the Sd'lich is _Fek'lhr_. Cochrane, Anthas and T'Pris remind me of the _Sd'lich_." 

Kira was intrigued by these myths. Being a strong believer in her own people's legends, she felt a connection to this newly discovered aspect of Worf. Perhaps if she understood the stories of his people, she would come to understand the man better. "What happened to these creatures?" she asked.

"There is a story that Molor found all four of these creatures, each one more dangerous than the last, and he joined them together to make _K'Ram_, the ultimate force of chaos. But Kahless and Morath tore the _Sd'lich K'Ram_ back into its separate pieces, moments before the Universe was destroyed and cast them to the four corners of Creation." 

__

An alarm interrupted Kira's next question. She looked at the viewscreen. A D'deridex-class warbird was decloaking in front of them. It wavered into solidity.

"I think, perhaps, some of that bad luck may have come our way," she observed.

Jonah, T'Pris and Anthas trudged along in complete silence through the rainforest, each occupied with their own thoughts. The three prisoners were completely at their captors' mercy. And they were aware that the mercy of Klingons is not their most noted quality, particularly towards prisoners. For a Klingon, being held prisoner is highly dishonourable. A Klingon would rather die. They therefore tended to treat prisoners with the same dishonour with which they would expect to be treated themselves. The Khitomer accords had made little impression on this attitude. This made the position of the three captives very insecure. 

T'Pris remained stoical, her _t'san s'at_ training keeping her feelings of fear in check. Anthas coped by focusing on her anger at the injustice at being denied her liberty. Jonah tried to take his mind off his feeling of complete vulnerability by observing as much as he could of the people around him. It gave him some feeling of control, to gradually know them better, and to try and work out what made them function.

There were six Klingons, four male and two female, all of them with the exception of Ba'el were elderly. One of the males called L'Kor appeared to be their leader. Or rather, the other Klingons looked to him for instructions. However, the man seemed to become increasingly distracted and withdrawn, and as he withdrew more, the young female Klingon, Ba'el, took charge more often. She had decided to lead the group to a nearby settlement, Jonah gathered there was something there that she wanted the Starfleet people to see. The other Klingons objected and sought L'Kor's support, but he deferred to Ba'el. So they were being force marched towards the destination Ba'el had chosen.

The real enigma in the party was the Romulan, Tokath. He appeared injured, and must have been another captive. Jonah guessed he was part of a group of Romulans that had been ambushed by marooned Klingons, which was probably also where their weapons came from. However, the Klingons treated the Romulan with respect, and helped him walk when he became too weak. Tokath and Ba'el were frequently engrossed in quiet, earnest conversations, which Jonah could never quite hear. There even appeared to be affection between the young Klingon and the elderly Romulan.

The marching took most of the day. Their route took them through a canyon that reeked of sulphur, and then along the banks of a river, until they came to a clearing. Across the river stood a buttress of rock, on top of which was a large fortress-like settlement. In the distance, over-looking the settlement, was a mountain, covered in the same verdant rainforest through which they had trudged. 

The Klingons let their three captives rest then. The Klingons had become more alert as they had neared the building, and now that they were so close they almost seemed ill at ease. As Jonah, T'Pris and Anthas sank exhausted to the ground, the Klingons set Tokath gently onto a cloak one of them had set down. Then with only one Klingon remaining to guard them, the others disappeared into the surrounding undergrowth. Jonah stretched out on the ground, trying to get his breath back, then saw Anthas raise her head suddenly. He sat up and whispered to her: "What's the matter, An?"

She shook her head. "A trace of blood, burnt flesh, from the settlement." She shivered, memories of Andoria flooding back.

The Klingons returned and the three were forced to their feet again. Ba'el stepped up close to them.

"We have something to show you," she said the words with an intensity that Jonah had not seen before. "You might hate us for taking you prisoner, but you must see this. The Federation must know."

Ba'el turned abruptly. Another push and the group was on the move again. The Klingons found a ford in the river and crossed, wading chest deep. Each one of the large sturdy males holding a captive secure against the current, the fourth supporting the elderly Romulan. On the other side they again pushed their way through the trees of the rainforest, which grew right up to the edge of the settlement.

The wall of the building was close to four metres tall, where it was intact. In places the wall had partially collapsed, bricks were strewn about widely, as if the wall had been hit with weapon fire, rather than simply falling down due to decay. After walking four several hundred metres around the settlement they came to a break in the wall. The bricks had collapsed into a steep pile of rubble two metres high. They were forced to climb over the rubble of the wall and entered the compound beyond. For Anthas the scent of blood was overpowering.

As they reached the top of the rubble and took their first look down into the compound beyond, disruptor fire filled the air around them. Jonah, T'Pris and Anthas threw themselves to the ground, just as the elder of the two Klingon women vapourised as a disruptor beam hit her. The other Klingons dispersed along the wall of the settlement, returning fire at whoever was in the compound below. Jonah hadn't taken a good look at the people below, he had just seen three figures. He tasted brick dust, and smelled the ionised air, as the firing continued. He lifted his head from the rubble and turned to look at T'Pris, who was watching the activity in the courtyard below – unperturbed as usual.

The disruptor fire died away, to be replaced by shouts in both Klingon and Romulan. Tokath, who lay next to the three captives, crawled forward to look down into the courtyard. Jonah did the same. Below he could see the Klingons approaching the three figures, which had raised their hands in a gesture of surrender that both Romulans and Klingons recognised from their contact with the Federation. Now that Jonah could take longer to look at them, he could see they were Romulan. Two females and one male. He took another look.

"Is that …?"

T'Pris nodded. "Katrin and Rohan." She did not let any surprise show on her face. They had met the two Romulans a year earlier on the _Enterprise-D_. The Romulans had been on their way to Vulcan, ostensibly for a meeting about Reunification between Romulus and Vulcan. "It is a small galaxy," was her only comment.

"But what would the Tal Shiar be doing here?" Jonah asked.

T'Pris shook her head and returned to watching the figures below.

The Klingons directed the three Romulans to climb up to the breach in the wall. Ba'el led the group.

"Stand up," she ordered Jonah, T'Pris and Anthas. The three did as they were told. "Come down. You must see this."

The three began to climb down into the courtyard, when Anthas suddenly looked up. T'Pris and the Romulans did the same. Then the Klingons heard it. A roar of engines.

"Leave. Now!" Ba'el ordered. Dutifully the others, dulled now by their constant subjection to the whims of their captors, automatically did as they were told. As the Klingons and their six captives entered the rainforest, three Romulan scout ships reached the settlement. Dust blew high into the air as the ships landed in the courtyard. 

Kira sat impatiently on the Romulan Warbird, exactly where she wasn't sure, although it appeared to be a meeting room. The commander of the Warbird, had commanded the _Defiant _to lower its shields and for its captain to allow herself to be beamed aboard the Romulan ship. The Romulan Commander had been arrogant and overbearing, and had dismissed Kira's protestations at their interference out-of-hand, but since the D'deridex Class ship vastly outgunned the Defiant, Kira had conceded and the Romulans had beamed her immediately aboard the Warbird. Their initial haste seemed to have dissipated, however, since she had been kept waiting for close to an hour.

Finally the door opened and the commander appeared, escorted by two security guards.

"I am Commander Lossov," the Romulan looked down at Kira. "I apologise for the delay."

Kira was caught off-guard by this approach. The man's demeanour had changed completely since their earlier exchange.

"I've waited long enough, Commander. Why are you keeping me here?"

"I have been conferring with the Romulan Senate," Lossov answered, almost conciliatory by Romulan standards. "We detected your missing people's distress beacon several hours ago and have just been attempting to fix on a location. We will escort you to the surface to rescue them."

Kira viewed the Romulan suspiciously. They were being far too helpful.

"We can find them ourselves. Just let us get on with our mission."

"I can't permit that. The Carraya system is now within Romulan space. However, I will guarantee your safety, and if you wish to, I will allow you to be escorted by one of your crewmen." He paused for a moment. Then continued as if with an afterthought. "In return I would ask for your help with an investigation that I must undertake on the surface. A Federation viewpoint on the matter would be appreciated."

Kira was too perplexed by the Romulan's deferential manner to bother correcting him on his assumption that she was a member of Starfleet. She acquiesced to his conditions grudgingly, and contacted the _Defiant_, asking them to beam Worf aboard.

"Ensign Carson," Kira continued, "you're in command of the Defiant until Commander Worf and I return. If you lose contact with us, you are to return to Deep Space 9 immediately. I'll contact you again in an hour."

The Romulans beamed Worf and Kira directly from the meeting room to the cockpit of of one of their scout ships, where Lossov was waiting. The cockpit was very compact, there were only three seats, the central one of which Lossov occupied. He was obviously going to pilot them himself. 

*Please be seated," Lossov asked them. Kira heard the vaguest hint of a snarl from Worf. He obviously trusted the Romulan no more than Kira did. They took their seats, looking out of the three small windows at the Bird of Prey's hangar deck.

The hangar doors opened and the scout ship smoothly lifted off and headed into open space. Through her side window Kira saw another scout ship accompanying them, a third ship appeared to their left. The Romulans did not want to leave their Commander unprotected, for all their show of co-operation.

A few minutes later the scout ship was landing in the clearing next to the _Anduin_. The runabout stood abandoned at the edge of the clearing, the only signs of life the bright blue glow from the top of the locator beacon and the embers of a small fire.

Kira, Worf and Lossov disembarked from the scout ship, the other two ships circled overhead. Worf walked around the clearing, looking for clues as to where the occupants of the runabout had gone. Kira entered the runabout. Sounds emanated from the runabout. It sounded as if she were throwing objects around inside the ship. She emerged minutes later looking crestfallen 

"Are you all right, Major?" Lossov enquired.

Kira nodded abstractedly and stalked back to the scout ship. Worf guessed that the Major had been looking for the Orb and had failed to find it.

"Major," he informed her. "Cochrane and the others weren't alone. It appears there were other people here." He pointed to marks in the earth surrounding the ashes of the fire. "They may have been kidnapped."

Kira looked to where Worf was pointing. There were prints from large boots in the earth, far larger in size than those belonging to the three women who were missing. 

"Do you know who these footprints belong to?" Kira demanded of Lossov. The Romulans smiled knowingly. 

"I think so. Come with me."

They returned to the scout ship. Lossov unhesitatingly flew them across the rainforest, it seemed as though he had been anticipating the request. The other two scout ships accompanied them.

In a few minutes they reached a fortress-like settlement on a buttress of rock. A river snaked around it. The building looked ruined, its walls had collapsed in places and some of the buildings within the walls also seemed to be in disrepair. Kira looked down through her side window. For a moment she thought she saw figures moving away from the walls and into the rainforest, but when she looked again the figures had vanished.

The scout ships landed in the compound, raising dust into the air, that flowed over the surrounding walls like a wave. Lossov waited a few moments for the dust to settle, then opened the ship's door.

Worf was the first to step out. He looked around with a haunted expression on his face. To Kira it was obvious he had been there before. He scanned the buildings, searching for something, or someone.

"Worf?" Kira asked, suddenly concerned for the Klingon. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder, finding reassurance in the feel of the weight of the Orb within it.

"What do you see Commander Worf?" Lossov asked. Again Kira got the impression that the Romulan knew more than he was letting on. He almost seemed to be taunting Worf, or leading Worf towards a conclusion Lossov had already made.

Worf was silent for a few minutes, then walked over to a dark patch on the courtyard floor. He took out a tricorder and scanned it. He then scanned the surroundings. The Romulan occupants of the other two scout ships had also disembarked, and formed a group a few metres away from where he stood. Worf walked towards them, then through the group, ignoring them and heading towards the nearest of the stone buildings. The door to the building he had chosen was wooden, and his attention was caught by marks gouged in the wood.

"Well, Commander Worf?" Lossov's brayed the question.

Worf glowered at him.

"You know already don't you?" Worf demanded of the Romulan.

Lossov shrugged. "This was a Romulan prisoner of war camp. Full of Klingon prisoners." The Romulan commander took a great deal of pleasure from imparting that last piece of information. "Someone has committed an act of mass murder here. As far as we know there were no survivors." Kira looked around her with horror.

"How many …?" she asked.

"Commander Worf knows. Don't you, Commander?" Again Kira sensed something going on between the two men. 

Worf ignored the man, and walked back to the scout ship. Kira looked at Lossov questioningly.

"There were sixty-six Klingons living here at the last count," Lossov explained. "All but one of them adults. We don't know what happened to the other children. As far as we know Commander Worf visited them about three years ago."

Kira looked around the empty courtyard, noticing for the first time the number of dark patches on the ground, the burn marks on the wall.

"And what happened to them?" she asked.

"We've examined the area, and came to the conclusion that I believe your companion has just arrived at. The disruptor discharge, the marks on the door that were made by a _bat'leth, _the Klingons' well-known revulsion at the thought of a Klingon being taken prisoner. It all points to these Klingons having been slaughtered by other Klingons."

Yaana had easily tracked the group through the rainforest. The Klingons believed that they were the only people on the planet, and had not bothered to conceal their progress. Before leaving the _Anduin_ Yaana had replicated camouflage fatigues and changed into them. In her small kit bag she had placed a medikit, some rations and the Orb of Transendence. With the camouflage and her naturally green skin she was practically invisible as she moved through the trees. She had a tricorder with her, but it kept losing their bio-signs, probably due to the high density of lifeforms in the rainforest around her. She couldn't track them using their combadges, the first thing her friends' captors had done was remove and discard them. They had been thrown down onto the ground next to the campfire. 

What also helped Yaana track the others was an intuitive, almost subliminal, sense of which direction the others were in. Yaana had not any latent psionic talents as far as she knew; this ability must be a leftover from the period in which they had been linked though the Orb of Transcendence. 

Yaana froze. A reptile slithered along a branch overhead. She waited, watching its slow, undulating progress. Again her thoughts were with Jonah, T'Pris and Anthas. The chances of rescuing them seemed remote, but then she was accustomed to dangerous situations; her time spent in Starfleet Intelligence had exposed her to them many times. She had never before felt this fear that she wouldn't succeed. It wasn't that she felt less confident of success, it was more that the prospect of failure had not bothered her before. She guessed the difference now was that she had something to lose. Many times when she had been with Roberts, she had even felt that if she was caught and killed, it would be a relief. But then, the only person she was close to, she hated, too. Now there were people she cared about, and survival mattered to her. It made her vulnerable. She wasn't sure she liked it. Yaana looked up. The reptile was gone. Silently she continued in the direction the others had been taken.

The captives were becoming exhausted. The Klingons had been force marching them uphill for hours and showed no sign themselves of tiring, despite their age. The captives were being marched in single file, the three Romulans at the front, followed by Anthas and Jonah, with T'Pris at the rear. Being separated intensified the feeling of isolation and intimidation, they were unable to see if the others were all right, or offer reassurance. Jonah particularly was having a difficult time. All of them still hand their hands bound, which made balancing difficult as they picked their way through the undergrowth of the rainforest. The climate too was very humid. After the fifth time he had tripped over a tree root and fallen heavily, only to be picked up by the Klingon whom the others referred to as G'Bal, set on his feet again and prodded violently from behind, Jonah couldn't take any more.

He collapsed to his knees, the heat and the humidity finally getting to him. The Klingon next to him started to lift Jonah to his feet but was butted out of the way by Anthas hitting him with her shoulder.

"Leave him, leave him, you damn _pahtk_," she yelled. T'Pris stepped forward from behind to stand alongside her. G'Bal rounded on Anthas, his arm swung back to prepare to strike her, but Ba'el stepped in front of him.

"G'Bal, no. She is right, the prisoners must rest," the young woman looked up to the gaps in the tree cover above. "It's getting dark, we will find a place to camp and wait until morning." Ba'el turned to Anthas, and stepped close to her. "But hit one of us again and you will die," she warned her.

Kira and Worf stood on the wall of the settlement, looking out at the rainforest. The Romulans had disappeared inside one of the buildings, Lossov had explained that they were going to turn off the dampening field that surrounded the prison camp, and which might be the reason why they had been able to contact any of the stranded personnel through their combadges. There was also a detection perimeter field, which would locate any movement within 30km. Kira tried her combadge again. There was still no response.

"Is it true?" Kira finally asked Worf. "Could these people have been massacred by other Klingons?" she had checked the findings of the tricorder, and had come to the same conclusion, but she still found it difficult to believe that the Klingons were capable of slaughter on such a scale simply for honour.

Worf continued to look out at the rainforest. He nodded.

"The Klingon-Romulan conflict was in this system. For Klingons to be in a prison camp would be a matter of great shame to any other Klingons. They could have killed the people who lived here." Worf turned to look at Kira. "But the prisoners here would have welcomed such a death. It would have meant they would die as warriors. There would be a place for them in Sto-Vo-Kor." 

Kira tried her combadge again. Lossov must have turned off the dampening field because this time there was an answer.

"Lieutenant Yaana here," the voice whispered.

"Lieutenant Yaana, this is Major Kira Nerys. Are the others with you?" Kira replied.

"No. They were taken hostage by a group of Klingons. I've been tracking them."

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the foothills of the mountain closest to the settlement. About 10km away. Is that where you are? I saw three ships land there."

"We'll home in on your signal," Kira replied. She looked down at the courtyard. Lossov and his team had emerged and were heading towards them. "We'll try and make your position by sunset." She looked up at Carraya. Sunset was only a few hours away.

"OK Major," Yaana replied. Then added: "Major, it's really good to hear your voice."

"Yours too, Lieutenant," Kira replied. "Kira out." 

As it neared sunset Ba'el and her followers stopped and made camp. As a concession to their comfort, the prisoners' bindings were refastened in front of them to enable them to eat. Tokath had weakened considerably. The Klingons had made a stretcher for him and had been carrying him for the last few kilometres. The stretcher bearers had gradually been left behind by the others. As the prisoners finished their meal the stragglers arrived and the wounded Romulan was set down. As they joined the other Klingons, L'Kor protested to Ba'el.

"Why do we continue to move on? If we move him Tokath will only become more ill," he said.

Ba'el was disparaging. "Are you a Klingon? Or have your years as a prisoner made you weak? We climb this mountain because we are followed. Did you not see the ships? The Romulans will be on our trail. If we have the advantage of the high ground we may beat them, and be revenged." Ba'el looked at the Romulan. "Tokath understands the sacrifice we must make."

Tokath beckoned the young woman to him and whispered to her. Ba'el stood up and rounded on the Romulan prisoners.

"You are found out. This one," she pointed at Jonah, "knows you as Tal Shiar. What are the Tal Shiar doing here?"

The three Romulans stared resolutely straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the question. The third Romulan, the one Jonah had not seen before, was young, with blonde hair. She seemed particularly self-assured. Jonah didn't think that Ba'el would be able to get them to talk.

"Tell me," Ba'el screamed at them. She withdrew one of the Romulan disruptors. "I'll use this on one of you unless you tell me." The three ignored her. Ba'el lean over to Rohan and struck him with the disruptor. A trickle of green blood appeared on his lip, but he still resolutely stared straight ahead.

Up to that point L'Kor had been sitting next to Tokath. Now he walked over to Ba'el and whispered to her. Ba'el returned with him to the Romulan, who now lay very still on his stretcher. Ba'el bent over the body, and rested her head in her hands.

Suddenly she stood up, and with a look of fury strode across to the group of Romulans sitting on the ground. she withdrew her disruptor and whiteout a moment's hesitation fired it at Katrin. The Romulan woman barely had chance to lift her cuffed hands up in an automatic defensive gesture, before she was vapourised in a flash of green light.

The other prisoners were stunned by the callous display of their captors' power over them. Ba'el pointed the disruptor at Rohan.

"Now talk!" she commanded.

A look of fear crossed Rohan's face.

"Wait! Wait! I'll tell you." he pleaded.

The Romulan woman next to him scowled. "Rohan," she warned.

Rohan turned on her. "Why Sela? Why should I die for the Tal Shiar? The people we had allegiance to all died in the Omarion Nebula. You were a high-ranking officer. Now look at us. The new regime have got us working as basic field agents. Grubbing around faking evidence." Rohan looked up at Ba'el.

"That's why we're here," Rohan continued. "Faking evidence. The Romulan who led the attack on your settlement – he's called Commander Slobad. He was the commander of a fleet that was decimated by Klingons in the early part of the conflict. He decided he'd carry out a vendetta against Klingons in this sector. He called it ethnic cleansing. By the time the Senate caught up with him he'd attacked the prison camp on Carraya."

Rohan looked over at Jonah, T'Pris and Anthas. "Normally that wouldn't matter, but things are changing in the Galaxy. We're losing in our war with the Klingon Empire, our treaty with the Cardassians isn't dependable, and the Dominion threaten to invade the Alpha Quadrant any time soon. The Tal Shiar see the Federation as the only likely ally. But they're difficult to understand. They have their "morality". They'd call an act like this a "war crime". The Tal Shiar don't want an incident like this to prevent any future possible allegiance. When we heard that a Federation starship had crashed here, the heads of the Tal Shiar decided to make the massacre appear as if it was carried out by Klingons, so that when these three," Rohan nodded at the three prisoners opposite him, "were rescued, it would be Klingons that would get the bad reputation, not the Romulan Empire." Rohan turned his attention fully to the three sitting opposite him. "Once again you three have made life difficult for me."

Jonah shrugged. "Glad we could be of help."

The scout ships had landed several kilometres from Yaana's position. Worf, Lossov and the four Romulan occupants of the other two ships had then followed Kira as she homed in on Yaana's combadge. Kira approached the position cautiously. In Yaana's last message she had stated that she was within sight of the Klingons' camp, and that Jonah and the others were unharmed. Kira didn't want to do anything to jeopardise their lives. Kira looked around, puzzled. According to her tricorder, Yaana should be right here. Then she appeared, as if spontaneously created by the forest around them. 

"Major Kira", Yaana greeted her. "I'm glad to see you."

"The others? Where are they?" Kira replied.

"In a clearing, about three hundred metres ahead."

"And …" Kira hardly dared ask.

"The Orb?" Yaana guessed what she meant. She swung the kit bag from her shoulder and held it out to the Bajoran.

Kira took it, opened the bag and reached inside. She drew out the Orb, still wrapped in the soiled cloth, and uncovered it.

It _was_ the Orb. She stared at it, tears welling up in her eyes. A second Orb had now been returned to her people. Hurriedly she replaced the Orb in the bag, looking at the young Orionese woman before her and unable to find the words to express her gratitude. Behind her Worf and Lossov joined them.

"This is Lieutenant Yaana," Kira introduced the young woman. "She says the Klingons and their prisoners are three hundred metres in that direction."

Yaana nodded. "They're closely guarded. If we attack then Jonah and the others won't stand a chance."

Worf approached them. "Major. Let me go in and negotiate. I may be able to persuade them to release the prisoners."

Kira nodded. "Very well, Commander. Be careful."

As Worf entered the clearing he was immediately surrounded by Klingons. G'Bal approached him.

"So Worf, you return to us. Have you come to fight alongside us, or betray us to our enemy?"

"Neither," Worf replied. "I have come to demand the release of your prisoners"

Ba'el joined them, staring angrily at Worf. "As always your loyalties are with Starfleet, not those of your own kind."

"I would not want to ally myself with cowards who take unarmed people hostage. These three are not your enemies. Where is Tokath? Is he here? If so I wish to speak with him. He would not allow an act so dishonourable."

"My father is dead," Ba'el replied. "Murdered by his enemies."

"I saw the settlement. I saw the evidence of the Klingon attack."

"That evidence was faked. Follow me." Ba'el led Worf to the fire, around which the prisoners were sat. One was missing.

"The Romulan - the male, where is he?" she demanded of those still remaining. There was no answer.

Rohan stumbled through the rainforest, finding it difficult to push his way through the trees due to his hands being cuffed before him. He slipped and awkwardly struggled to his feet. He was sure this was the direction the Starfleet Klingon had come from.

Finally he left the trees and entered a space in the forest, from the centre of which projected a large outcrop of rock. If his compatriots were anywhere they would be here. He raised his cuffed hands and yelled.

"Ta krenn, ta krenn." 

The Romulans did look. There was a burst of green light, and Rohan was cut down where he stood.

Kira and Yaana had been watching the events from their vantage point in the rocks. Kira turned to Lossov in horror.

"But that was one of your own men!" she accused him.

Lossov seemed untroubled. "They have been on guard for close to an hour. They are feeling the strain. On a hair trigger." He shrugged. "These things happen."

Kira was not convinced by Lossov's argument. Withdrawing a few metres from the Romulan commander she spoke into her combadge.

Worf finished his conversation with Kira and turned to Ba'el. "I know what happened to your escaped prisoner. He has just reached the Romulans' camp. As soon as he got there they killed him." Worf wasn't sure how this would affect the negotiations. So far he had got nowhere, although he was now aware of the truth behind the massacre. The information came from Jonah. Sela had refused to speak to him. Now, however, she spoke.

"Of course they killed him. Our mission was to cover up Slobad's ethnic cleansing. But now the truth's out. Their next option is to cover up the attempt to carry out a cover-up, which means killing all of us. Even if these Klingons let us go, those Romulans out there won't."

"Worf," Ba'el spoke up. "We never planned for anyone to get hurt, except the Romulans. We just wanted the truth to get out about the massacre."

"The truth about the massacre?" Worf turned to L'Kor. "L'Kor, had you not thought, by letting the Galaxy know about the Romulans attacking the prison camp here, you'd be revealing that Klingon prisoners were taken at Khitomer? What is more important? Revenge, or your honour and the honour of your comrades? You should be proud that your people were killed in battle, rather than dying of old age in their beds."

L'Kor looked abashed. Ba'el stepped in.

"No, those Romulan _pahtks_ killed my family, destroyed my home. They should pay."

L'Kor turned to her. "No Ba'el, I have listened to you for too long. You are the daughter of my friend, and I am very proud of you, but you do not understand our ways. You are only half Klingon. Words and the beliefs of others are for Romulans. What do we care who knows the truth or what lies are known? A Klingon cares only whether he dies in battle, or in his sleep."

"Then let the prisoners go," Worf argued. You don't need them now. You have brought your enemy to you. It is time to seek your revenge face-to-face."

"The Romulan too?" L'Kor asked.

Sela laughed derisively. "You might as well kill me here. I can't go back to the Romulans. They wouldn't want to take the risk of my knowledge being used against them."

Worf thought for a moment. 

"You can escape into the rainforest. You could survive there. Particularly with Ba'el to help you. She knows this planet."

"No," Ba'el objected. "If the others are to do battle then I shall fight alongside them."

L'Kor confronted her, his hands resting on her shoulder.

"No, this is our fight not yours. Go with the Sela woman. Live for another day. You are young, the rest of us are old and have not long to live. This may be our last chance to die in battle."

Ba'el nodded. L'Kor pulled her to him and hugged her. Then he turned to the other Klingons. "Chegh-chew jaj-vam jaj-kak," he roared, raising the disruptor high into the air.

Kira had been contacted by Worf, and now knew the position they were all in. She decided to confront Lossov about his plans for them once the prisoners were freed.

"Worf tells me that you plan to prevent us leaving Carraya. He says that you will kill us here."

"Now why would I do that, Major?" Lossov responded.

"You don't want information about Slobad's war crimes to get back to the Federation, and you certainly don't want the federation to know that the Tal Shiar tried to cover it up," Kira explained.

Lossov's eyes narrowed. "Worf has been informative. Go on," he prompted.

"But then you'll have to cover up our deaths, and so on. Eventually the truth will come out, and it will be far worse than if you had just admitted to Slobad's crimes in the first place."

"You don't think the Federation would have held Romulus to blame for the Slobad's crimes?"

"You don't know them like I do, Kira explained. "The Federation has adopted a lot of the traits of humans and they have a strange combination of idealism and cynicism. They have had so many massacres in their own history that they almost expect them to happen occasionally. Their reaction is more likely to be admiration that you have admitted it. They certainly won't hold the Romulan Empire responsible for the actions of a single group of people."

Lossov paused to think. "What you say is true, but my orders are to make sure that the Klingons are to blame for the massacre. Can you assure me that no news of the cover-up will get back to the Federation?"

Yaana was standing next to the "Commander," she interrupted the argument. "Those Klingons took my three friends hostage, in order to force the truth about the massacre. If it was a choice between a war criminal getting away with mass murder, or those _fvai_ profiting from endangering my friends, then I would rather the truth _didn't_ get out. Nothing could justify what they've done."

Lossov looked intently at Yaana for a moment, then decided she was telling the truth.

"Then it's just a matter of finding a way of silencing the Klingons," he considered.

Kira looked into the forest.

"Somehow I don't think that will be a problem," she mused.

Even though they were old and weakened by their years in captivity, there was something awesome about the sight of the five elderly Klingons preparing for battle. They were working themselves into a berserker rage. L'Kor and G'Bal roared at each other, shaking their disruptors over their heads. One of the other two males had a bat'leth and he was working through a series of movements with it, the motion slowed with age, but still powerful. The fourth male and the female were in the rainforest, reconnoitring the enemy camp. As soon as they returned the others began to move out. L'Kor turned to the others.

"Are you sure you will not join us. It will be glorious."

"It's suicide," Sela objected. "You'll be cut to ribbons."

"Ah but it is a good day to die," L'Kor grinned. He looked to Ba'el. "Qapla, Ba'el," he called to her. "I go to avenge your father."

"Qapla, L'Kor, may you die well," she responded.

The Klingons disappeared into the rainforest.

Worf turned to Sela and Ba'el. "Sela," he said. "Take care of Ba'el. I may be back again at some point. If she has come to harm I will kill you."

"Oh Worf," Sela smiled condescendingly. "You were always so melodramatic." She turned to Ba'el. "Come on, then. Let's get out of here." Ba'el took one last look at Worf then fell into step behind Sela. Then the two half-Romulan women disappeared into the forest, in the opposite direction to where the sound of disruptor fire echoed between the mountains.

Yaana and Kira had seen most of the short-lived battle without moving from their vantage point. Two elderly Klingons had appeared, yelling and waving bat'leths above their heads. One had been vapourised immediately. The other had dodged the disruptor fire and made it to the first outcrop of rock. There he had hacked at one of the Romulans, out of sight of the observers, except for a spray of green blood, before he too had been cut down by a shot from above.

The attack had been a diversion. Not much of a tactic, but it had bought the other three Klingons a few more seconds. They had emerged from the other side of the rock outcrop laying down covering bursts of disruptor fire. One burst had hit near to where Kira and Yaana hid, spraying hot rock over them. Yaana pulled Kira down next to her, and the two women crouched close to each other, hearing the pulse of disruptor fire and the yells of the Klingons. The yells stopped and Yaana and Kira looked over the lip of the rock. The rock face below was scorched in several places and had melted and solidified in others. The Romulans emerged from their concealed positions. One was badly burnt. Another, the one who had been attacked below, failed to emerge at all. Lossov also was missing.

Kira approached the three remaining Romulans. Her concern was that although she had persuaded Lossov to allow them to return to the _Defiant_, there was no reason to believe that the agreement would hold with Lossov's second-in-command.

"Major Kira," one of the Romulans spoke to her with formality. "I am sub-Commander Millos. Commander Lossov's last instructions to me were that you were to be accompanied back to your ship as soon as the Klingons were eliminated. I just need confirmation that there are no more in the forest and we can be on our way."

Kira nodded. She felt relief that the mission would be over with no more conflict. She looked down the edge of the trees where Worf was emerging followed by Jonah, Anthas and T'Pris. 

"Worf," she called down to him. "We need to know - are there any more Klingons remaining?"

Worf looked around, at the dark burns in the ground before him, then back into the forest, where Ba'el was beginning her life of scavenging in the rainforest. With only Sela for companionship, and with no hope of that life changing. "No, none," he called back, then to himself, "QI'tomerDaq Heghpu' Hoch. No-one survived Khitomer."


	8. Appendix

Appendix ****

Appendix

Glossary and credits Chapters 1-6

Most of the final touches in _Inter Alia_ are due to the input from Anya, who therefore deserves a mention. She's also suggested I elaborate on the following terms. Those taken from the Real World (RW) or that I've made up myself (MC).

****

Sub-quantum processes

All particles – from quarks to the Universe as a whole – can also behave like waves. Within the brain, the electrons that travel between neurons are also waves, and will propagate and interfere like wavefronts. The duality can be described as the wave being the sum of all the potential paths of the particle. However when these wavefunctions have propagated to an extent where, if they were particles, they'd have an effect, then they behave as particles. At this point, from all the possible paths that the wave took, only one is selected. This all happens at a level which cannot be observed, which I've called sub-quantum here. Within the brain, electron waves are interacting and diffracting, but the result is simply one neuron firing. In _The Emperor's New Mind_, Roger Penrose argues that this may be the basis of consciousness, although it seems to me that his argument is based on the fact that we don't understand consciousness and we don't understand quantum mechanics, so maybe the two are linked. (RW)

****

Heisenberg Compensators

The Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle states that there is a certain degree of uncertainty about the momentum and position of particles. The more closely we can define one, the less precise is our knowledge of the other. This isn't a question of measurement, it's one of reality – the actual particle doesn't exist in a precise state. Thus a transporter scanner would not be able to tell exactly where our particles are and what their momenta are because they're not exactly anywhere. (RW) 

The Heisenberg Compensators in a transporter must deal with this ambiguity and replicate it. If Penrose is right, and consciousness is based on this fuzziness of the quantum world, which can't be measured, then each time someone in Star Trek is beamed anywhere, their thoughts on coming out of the transporter can't be the same as they were when they went in. (MC)

****

Time dilation

In his special relativity Einstein showed (and which has since been verified) that objects in a moving frame experience time at a slower rate than stationary observers. The amount of time dilation increases the closer to c (the velocity of light) you get. Thus at 94% of the speed of light 54 years can pass in real time, but only 12 years pass on board ship. The ratio t'/t is the gamma function and is given by Ö (1-v2/c2) if t' is ship time and t is galactic time. (RW)

Interestingly, (well I thought it was interesting) Voyager could get back home in six years (ship time) if they travelled at 99.9999995% of the speed of light, although 60,000 years would have passed in that time. Objects also gain in mass by a factor given by the gamma function, so everyone on board would have a mass of around 700 tonnes. (MC)

****

Vulcan's Suns

Information on Vulcan's suns taken from _The 40 Eridani Trinary System_ ([http://www.ludwig.ucl.ac.uk/st/StarTrek/Vulcan/Where_is_Vulcan.txt][1])

****

Glossary

This is a list of all the non-Terran words used in the stories. Unless I've indicated otherwise the words are already established within the Star Trek Universe and are care of The Universal Translator Assistant Project [http://hometown.aol.com/JPKlingon/uta/index.html][2] or the Star Trek Encyclopædia. 

adun, aduna

betrothed (vulc.)

arie'mnu 

mastery of passion and emotion.

chakh' 

plant; its dried strings were used for weaving nets [vulc.]

Chegh-chew jaj-vam jaj-kak

It is a good day to die (kling.)

fvai

dog (rom.)

Kal Rekk

Vulcan holiday of atonement, solitude and silence

kal-toh

Vulcan puzzle in which rods are placed to form a pattern

katra

essential essence of person, inner consciousness (the soul).(vulc.)

kolinahr

Vulcan ritual intended to purge all emotion

koon-ut-kal-if-fee

Vulcan mating ritual – the marriage or challenge

Las'hark 

Vulcan name for sun

Mene sakkhet ut-seveh

Live long and prosper (vulc.)

na'tha'thhya

passing-on. The investiture of one's self-that- has-been in 'katra' mode. [vulc.] 

pagh

soul (Bajoran)

par'machkai

lover (kling.)

plak tow

blood fever (vulc.)

pon farr

Vulcan mating cycle

qir'lal 

a benign edible fruited thorned succulent root [vulc.]

qomi

human (vulc.)

saya 

fruit-water [vulc.]

sehlat

Vulcan mammal, resembling a teddy bear, but with six-inch long fangs 

skan

family (Vulc.)

soo-lak

a dispassionate observer to an emotional state (vulc.)

ta'al

Vulcan salute

tal'oth

Vulcan rite of endurance

t'an rod

piece used in kal-toh puzzle (vulc.)

t'an s'at

intellectual deconstruction of emotional patterns (vulc.)

t'hy'la 

friend-lover-lifelong companion (vulc.)

totsu'k'hy

Vulcan nerve pinch

T'Sai

lady (vulc.)

tviokh

derogatory term meaning neighbour used for a stranger (alien). [vulc.]

t'zaled 

to be loyal to the end, protecting that ones life.(vulc.)

vrekasht

exile/outsider (vulc.)

   [1]: http://www.ludwig.ucl.ac.uk/st/StarTrek/Vulcan/Where_is_Vulcan.txt
   [2]: http://hometown.aol.com/JPKlingon/uta/index.html



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